


Hour of the Assassin

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ghostbusters are a nuisance and a pain for some demon lords. So when a contract is taken out on them, one assassin promises results. The Ghostbusters will be taken care of, once and for all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hour of the Assassin

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in the mid-nineties

The cave-like room was filled to the bursting point. There was a lot of shoving and shouting in the last rows and the front was packed tightly. Now and then another newcomer tried to get up front, but was pushed back by those who had arrived first.

"And now for the latest figures," a deep voice boomed and all of a sudden there was a complete silence filling the large hall. Hundreds of thousands of eyes fixed on the speaker. Mn'kiouro, chief statistician, squinted short sightedly at the figures on his sheet of paper. "In the last three months fifteen of us have either disappeared without a trace or where destroyed. All was the work of the humans known as the Ghostbusters."

There was an uneasy chattering among those present.

"Four of us were able to free themselves from their captivity, but three were trapped again. They are now in what is called a 'containment unit'. There's a fifty-six percent chance that we won't be able to free them."

Low mumbling again.

"Over sixty where caught in the backlash of the Apocalypse and removed from this dimension. Their return is expected in 4598,28 years. We lost another large number of lower class demons when their leader was 'busted', as it is called. They were scattered over three planes of dimensions known to demon kind. Only five percent have been located and may be able to make it back."

Mn'kiouro pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at the chief demon. He was through with his statistics. The chief demon nodded, not looking very thrilled. He was in a bad mood, to be correct. He had been in a bad mood when he had been elected chief a few years ago; he had been in a bad mood when he had arrived in this dimension, and he would leave the meeting in an even worse mood. Uinpolqor had never been in a good mood as far as all the others could remember.

"You all heard it. The Ghostbusters are a threat to demon kind. We tolerated them long enough. They have to be destroyed."

"Uhm, sire ....." A greenish-blue demon of absolute ghastly looks looked at the chief with multiple eyes.

"Yes?" Uinpolqor growled.

"It's just that ... ehm ... we tried destroying them before."

"Yes?"

"Uhm, you see ... it never worked. We tried trickery and deception and bribery and such things, we made frontal attacks, sneaked up and used brute force. Nothing ever had any results."

"Yes?"

"Well, ....ehm ... uh .... what should we try now?"

Uinpolqor stared at the crowd of expectant faces and whatever it was that stared expectantly at him and frowned.

"Uinpolqor?" Another voice rose from the demons and he turned his massive, scaly head to look for the caller.

"Yes?"

The crowd parted as a two-legged and very human looking demon stepped up front. It was female and quite good looking from the demon point of view; especially the thick, ram-like horns on her head were very .... sexy. Uinpolqor blinked and concentrated on something else beside her looks. It was hard, though.

"I may have plan how to destroy the Ghostbusters," the female demon said, her throaty voice echoing in the quite hall.

Most of the others knew her. She was called Iviannjay, one of the most powerful female demons of this dimensions. Female demons mostly kept to their own business, letting their male counterparts do the brute force stuff. They were ingenious planners and mostly excellent at shape shifting. Iviannjay was respected and feared; mostly feared, because she had a temper.

"Yes?"

Some of the demons wondered whether Uinpolqor had just learned this word because he repeated it so often.

"I ask for your permission to leave for the human dimension."

Uinpolqor frowned again, then he nodded and the other demons stared at the female among them with awe and wonder. She wanted to try and destroy the Ghostbusters! What a demon! Iviannjay smiled, her lips curling back and revealing a row of gleaming white, vicious looking teeth.

 

* * *

 

Janine Melnitz went up the stairs to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. She had forgotten her lunch when she had overslept and hurried to work this morning and now she was hungry. The guys wouldn't mind that she made herself at home in the kitchen and did a little fridge-raiding.

Glancing automatically around the spacious living room she discovered Peter Venkman, sitting in one of the armchairs and going over the pages of the latest issue of 'Psychology Monthly'. He was completely absorbed in the magazine, something she rarely saw. Once in a while he underwent a mysterious transformation and behaved just like any other scientist, but most of the times he didn't. Peter didn't notice her and she decided not to disturb him. He might snap back into his usual irrepressible mood and she wanted to have a quiet lunch.

Janine entered the kitchen and opened the fridge. Taking out several things she would need for her sandwich she suddenly frowned. Something she had seen just now when she had looked at Peter had disturbed her on a subconscious level. Something was wrong; something didn't fit. Buttering her bread she tried to determine what it was. Peter didn't look different, did he? He didn't have a radical haircut, he wore his 'civvies' and he was reading. Okay, seeing him read was unusual, but it wasn't wrong. She placed the sandwich on a plate and left the kitchen again. This time she looked closely at Venkman, but couldn't see anything amiss. Peter lifted his eyes when he became aware of his secretary staring at him.

"Hi, Janine," he greeted her, smiling.

"Hi, Peter. Want a sandwich?"

"No." He looked questioningly at her. "Something wrong?"

"No, no. Nothing. I'm downstairs." With that she disappeared, still disturbed. Something had been there which was gone now. But what?

 

Peter Venkman let out a sigh of relief. For a second he had been afraid that Janine had seen it, but even if she had seen it, she hadn't really seen it. That's why she had looked at him like that. She wasn't sure. Peter was glad she wasn't.

 

* * *

 

" ... 125 and sold to the young man in the second row!"

The man in the sweater and jeans nodded to his assistant and the girl placed the small card in the plastic envelope back on the table. She picked up another item, this one a poster magazine, and held it up over her head.

"A brand new Captain Incredible poster magazine, signed by the artist. Let's start with $ 30 ......"

The auction continued as Ray Stantz slipped away and made his way to the desk of the four people who had volunteered to take the names of those who had bought something at the auction.

"Name?" one of them wanted to know.

"Ray Stantz. I bought the trading card."

The man wrote down name and address and the item in question, then gave Ray a slip of paper. "Come to us after the auction."

"Thanks." As he turned he nearly bumped into a young woman with short, brown hair. She smiled at him and Ray smiled back. "Hi," he greeted her.

"Hi. Congratulations. You got the trading card, didn't you?"

Ray nodded. "Weren't you the one who gave me a hard time getting it?" he asked with a grin.

The woman grinned in return. "Yeah, but 125 was too much. I got some other stuff though. You must be a real fan."

"I got some stuff, yes. The trading card was something I was looking for. I can't believe I really got it."

They walked down the corridor of the hotel. The International Comic Con was nearing its end for this day. The auction was something he had been feverishly waiting for since he had heard that they would sell the trading card he had wanted for so long. Now it was his, and the $ 125 weren't that much. In fact, he had thought it would cost at least $ 150.

"Annie Long," the dark haired woman volunteered.

"Ray Stantz. You from around here?"

"I'm from New York, yes. You?"

"The same."

They arrived at the bar and sat down at one of the small tables. "Do you only collect Captain Steel or something else, too?" Annie wanted to know.

"Mainly Captain Steel ...."

The conversation carried on, mainly about comics, but sometimes drifting off to other matters.

 

When Ray left the hotel Annie said good-bye to him and promised to visit him some time. She was intrigued that he was a real Ghostbuster and Ray was all enthusiastic about the woman. Someone who shared his hobbies! It was great. As he got in the cab and gave the driver the address he didn't see a smile of pure satisfaction cross Annie's lips. When he looked back, the smile was gone, replaced by the innocent look of a young comic book collector. Waving good-bye he got in the cab. Annie waved back and then disappeared into the hotel again.

 

* * *

 

Janine Melnitz looked up from her work and smiled at the young woman who had just entered Ghostbuster Central.

"I'm Annie Long."

Slimer, who had been circling around the hall in the hope to get a piece of Janine's lunch, hovered closer to the woman, eyeing her curiously. The curious expression was suddenly replaced by a deep frown.

"You must be Ray's friend. He's upstairs but will be down any minute. Slimer!" Janine looked at the ghost in reproach as he began to sniff at Annie like a dog. "Don't scare Ray's friend." She turned back to Annie. "Don't worry. He's tame."

That was the moment Ray bounced down the stairs, a broad grin on his face. "Hello, Annie!"

Annie smiled. "Hello, Ray. Ready to go?"

The occultist nodded, grabbed his jacket and both left the firehall. Slimer stared after them, still frowning. He appeared like he couldn't make up his mind what to make of Annie Long. Then he drifted off to the second floor.

"You think it's something serious?"

Peter Venkman leaned over the file cabinets and looked thoughtfully after the couple. A grin tucked at the corners of his mouth and his green eyes sparkled with amusement.

Janine shrugged. "I don't think so. She's just another comic book fan."

"'Just another comic book fan', yeah right. I'll remind you of it when we attend the wedding."

"She's not really Ray's type, Dr. V."

"Oh, and you know what kind of girl Ray likes?" Peter's voice held an edge of sarcasm.

Janine chose not to answer and instead returned to her work. Peter sighed and shrugged. Ray genuinely liked this Annie Long and they had been meeting for weeks now, always in a comic shop or somewhere else. They had undertaken all kinds of things like haunting the book stores and spending hours on flea markets. The psychologist shook his head. Ray seemed to have found a girl with the same child-like enthusiasm for comics and cartoon shows, and who didn't mind spending most of their time in stores, working from one shelf to another in search for something rare and interesting. Deciding it couldn't hurt to take a look at Egon and maybe pester him a little bit, Peter went up the stairs.

As always, Egon was working in his lab. This time he had taken apart a trap and strewn all those little parts over his work bench. He didn't hear Peter enter, nor did he hear him coming closer.

"Need a magnifying glass, Spengs?" Peter asked loudly.

Egon jumped, startled, and dropped the part he had just tried to fit to the trap. "Peter!" he reproached the other man.

Peter grinned brightly. "Ray just left with his girl-friend," he informed the blond physicist.

"Ah." Egon's concentration was still on the trap and he didn't seem to have heard what Peter had said.

The psychologist leaned over the other man's shoulder and studied the trap. "Whatcha doing?"

Egon jumped again and gave Peter an annoyed look. "I'm trying to re-calibrate the delta macro-circuits of the multidimensional back-up system and to strengthen the ..."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry I asked."

The physicist gave him another annoyed look. "You never listen to my explanations, do you?"

"Why? It's working. Why should I know how it works? We got you and Ray for that." He patted Egon's shoulder.

Egon sighed, shaking his head, turning back to the problem at hand: the trap.

Peter decided that if he stayed here too long Egon might want him to help with the experiment. So he left the lab and wandered back into the living room, switching on the TV. Propping his feet on the table, he leaned back and watched the talk show on one of the many channels.

 

*

 

It was time. She had chosen her target. Iviannjay smiled cruelly as she watched Ray Stantz work systematically from one shelf to another, deep in search for one single book he had been wanting to buy for years. The human was so trusty that somehow it was all too easy. She always enjoyed a challenge, but this hadn't proven to be one. Maybe if she had chosen another one of the Ghostbusters instead ...?

No. She shook her head. Ray had been her prime target right from the beginning. He was the only one who could give her access to the Ghostbusters, though he had proven to have the most innocent soul of them all. That had been her main problem and concern. Iviannjay had thought hard about how to do it and then had come up with the perfect solution. Innocent souls couldn't be taken by demons if they were not freely given, but if she didn't try to harm Ray, she wouldn't be hindered by his soul. It was perfect. She didn't need to hurt or kill him. He would do her job for her!

"Here it is!" Ray grinned like a kid on Christmas and presented a book with a withered cover.

"Great!" 'Annie Long' said enthusiastically.

They went to the counter to pay and Ray produced his credit card. As he pulled it out of his wallet 'Annie' saw the picture that had been taken of them at the convention. She had given it to him - but not before she had insured that it had been prepared. Thoroughly prepared.

"Lucky charm?" she asked, pointing at the photo.

Ray nodded, blushing a little. "In a way. I like to keep it with me, you know. Reminds of the good time we had at the con." He blushed again. "Come on, let's go. The guys'll be waiting at home. We have an early bust tomorrow and I promised Egon to help him with the traps."

Together they left the store, saying good-bye to each other when they arrived at the subway station. Iviannjay looked after Ray Stantz. It was all just perfect!

 

* * *

 

It was very quiet at Ghostbuster Central and only the soft snoring of the men in the bed-room could be heard. The shadowy figure sneaked through the lab door and walked straight towards the lab bench where the new traps lay. It stretched out one hand and took one trap, looking closely at it. Frowning, it fetched a tool and loosened some screws. Taking the shell away from the ghost trap it peered inside and then disconnected two circuits. Screwing the trap shut again the figure left the lab, closing the door.

 

* * *

 

"Adjust the streams!" Egon's voice carried over the roaring of the green ghost.

"Come to Papa." Peter adjusted his stream and directed the ghost toward the trap Winston had thrown out under it. "Just a little more and now .... trap open!"

Winston stomped on the trigger and the trap's door opened. A blinding light shot upwards and engulfed the screaming ghost, sucking it inside. As soon as the ghost had disappeared, the trap closed and Peter gave Winston a 'thumbs up'.

Suddenly the trap started to shake and rattle. It crackled dangerously and smoke came out of several slits.

"What the.........??" Winston stared at the trap which was bouncing up and down and started to bulge outward as if it was a balloon.

"Get down!" Ray screamed as he realized what was going to happen, hitting the ground.

Winston followed his example.

Peter made a jump-dive for Egon who was closest to the trap and staring at it with scientific fascination. He hit him around the legs and both men crashed down, Peter landing on top of Egon.

The trap gave a final screech and exploded. The explosion shook the ground and debris rained on the four men. Smoke billowed around them and when Winston looked up he saw nothing at all. Coughing, he waited for the dust to settle down. Then he got to his knees and looked around. Ray lay only a few meters away, already stirring. He looked unhurt and when he discovered Winston he gave him a shaky smile.

A low moan made the black Ghostbuster search for Peter and Egon. Both men lay closer to the trap than Winston or Ray. Jumping up, Winston walked over to them.

"Egon? Peter?"

Peter blinked dazedly and tried to focus on the voice. There was a cut on his cheek, but it didn't bleed much. Something must have just grazed him.

"Winston?" he asked.

"Right, m'man. How are you?"

Peter moaned again. "My head ...."

Ray followed Winston and knelt down beside the two men. Egon's eyes were closed as he lay under Peter, who still hadn't moved. Winston gave the psychologist a hand and got him off Egon so Ray could examine him. As soon as Ray touched Egon's wrist to search for a pulse, the blond man cracked his eyes open.

"Egon!" Ray smiled, relieved. "How are you?"

"I feel fine, Ray. What happened?"

"The trap exploded," Winston simply said.

"Exploded? It shouldn't have done that." Egon sat up gingerly.

Peter looked at his friend. "Oh? Well, now that you say it, I remember. Traps shouldn't explode." He grimaced as he touched his head.

"I checked the traps. They were functioning perfectly." Egon stared at the little crater the explosion had left in the ground with evident amazement.

"Maybe you overlooked something," Winston volunteered.

The look in the blue eyes made Winston wish he hadn't said that. "I did not overlook something, Winston."

"Well, whatever it was, we shouldn't use any more of these modified traps," Ray decided, "until Egon and I have a chance to check them out."

"Uhm, guys, what about the ghost?" Peter wanted to know. "You think he was killed by the explosion."

"It was already dead, Peter," Egon lectured. "My theory is that its molecules were scattered by the power of the traps sudden expansion and combustion."

"You mean it's splattered across the country side," Peter translated with a grin.

Egon choose not to answer. He got up with Ray's help and Winston pulled Peter to his feet. They walked back to Ecto-1 which had survived the explosion without a single dent or scratch.

 

* * *

 

"This is impossible." Egon Spengler stared at the trap he had dismantled and his eyes held a look of utter disbelief.

"What did you find, Egon?" Ray leaned over his shoulder and peered at the trap.

"The feedback circuit and the security chip are not connected. Thereby the trap overloaded and exploded. But it's impossible. I connected the two circuits myself!"

Ray frowned. He had the utmost confidence in his friend and colleague, and when Egon worked on a project, everything was planned and perfectly outlayed. That some experiments exploded or finished in steaming puddles was another matter altogether. Those were experiments. Egon would never take an untested experiment along on a bust if he wasn't convinced it was really save.

The trap which had exploded could no longer be examined because all the parts were scattered in a large radius. They had found bits and pieces, but nothing which might have been a clue. So Egon had taken one of the other three improved traps and taken it apart.

"Maybe the connection broke under the strain," he ventured, taking the trap and studying the two circuits closely.

"I tested the circuitry myself," Egon said a little stiffly. "It was strong enough to withstand twice the strain and pressure it was under at our latest bust. And even if it would have broken - which is really highly unlikely - it wouldn't look like that."

Ray saw what the physicist meant. The circuits where neither molten nor scorched. They were simply not connected. This trap had not been used, but the circuits were disconnected!

"But ...," he began when a frightening thought hit his mind. "But if you're right this could mean ..." He shook his head. "No, I don't believe it."

"I know, Raymond. But those circuits were tampered with. Somebody disconnected them on purpose. The trap would function perfectly until the ghost was trapped and then it would collapse under the strain of the catch."

"But who could have done it? You finished the traps only the night before we went on the bust and nobody entered the house!"

Egon frowned. "Are you sure?"

"You mean a ghost?" Ray gasped.

"It is a possibility. The Ghostmaster sent three bounty hunters after us, too."

Ray sat down heavily. "But he never tampered with our instruments."

"Well, not directly. He used other methods. But I didn't say it is the Ghostmaster. It could be someone else."

"Who?"

"I don't know. But before we think about who it might be, we have to check the traps for other faults. I need your help to do it, Ray."

Ray nodded, feeling numb. "We should inform the others."

"After we checked the traps."

Together they set to work.

 

*

 

"What?!" Peter stared at the two scientists and nearly dropped his cup of coffee. "Say it again, please! I think my ears had a little problem deciphering what you just said."

"Somebody tampered with the traps I designed. I don't know who it was or how he could do it. The traps were in my lab and we were the only people in the firehouse."

"And a spud," Peter reminded them.

"Aw, Peter! Slimer would never do such a thing," Ray protested.

"Oh, yeah? He did it once. He played with a trap and broke it." Peter remembered that time, which had been a lot of trouble then, quite clearly.

"Yes," Egon said and nodded. "He played with the trap. And he put it back together again. But it's not the same here. This was done on purpose. The trap was opened, sabotaged and then put together again. Four times. Slimer couldn't do that."

"Yes, Slimer would never do anything to hurt us." Ray looked at Peter with reproach.

Peter frowned. "Okay, he's off the hook. But who would do such a thing? And why didn't we see or hear anything?"

"We were asleep, Pete. I usually don't hear or see anything when I'm sleeping." Winston grinned a bit.

"But was it a ghost?," Peter wanted to know, looking at the blond physicist.

"I did a P.K.E. sweep and came up negative." Egon didn't look very happy about it.

"But if it wasn't a ghost ....."

"Then someone broke into Ghostbuster Central," Winston finished Ray's sentence.

The four looked at each other in silence. Someone breaking into Headquarters was something no-one had ever thought of.

"What'll we do now?" Winston wanted to know.

"Ray and I have designed an alarm system," Egon explained. "We already installed it and will switch it on when we're not home. Janine has to be informed about it. I will install a recognition circuit in the alarm, so it won't go off every time one of us or Janine enters. Slimer's frequency will be programmed in, too."

"You still think it might be a ghost, not a human being?"

"Yes, we do," Ray answered instead of Egon. "But we will be on the safe side when we program the system for both eventualities."

Peter shook his head, still not completely sure how to handle that thought. Someone was out after them! It might prove to be not a ghost, but a human being. Who would do that? And why?

Suddenly the alarm shrilled and all four jumped, startled.

"Great!" Peter moaned. "Not now!"

Ray, Egon and Winston were already on their way downstairs and the psychologist followed. Janine was waving a piece of paper at them.

"There's an emergency call. A bunch of ghosts are terrorising the Museum of Modern Art. They want you go over there right away."

The four men traded looks. Ray and Egon had checked the traps, but what about the rest of the equipment?

"Something wrong, guys?" Janine had a sharp eye for trouble and right now it looked like there was trouble with her bosses.

"Not exactly," Ray said. He took the paper. "We'll better have a look at this," he told the others.

Peter nodded, not wanting to show his own unease. "Let's go. We need the money."

Two minutes later they were on their way. Janine looked after the disappearing white car with a frown. Something bothered them and she decided she'd find out with whatever methods were necessary when they were back from the bust.

 

* * *

 

The bust at the Museum of Modern Art proved to be more than they had expected. The ghosts were mainly Class-2's, but they were fast and agile. And they outnumbered the Ghostbusters by 5:1. Cursing and sweating Peter raced after a couple of extremely nasty Class-2's and finally caught them in his proton stream. Grabbing the trap from his pack he tossed it out under the two ghosts and stomped on the trigger. The ghosts were sucked inside and the doors closed. The light on the trap indicated a successful catch and Peter wiped sweat from his brows. He eyed the trap warily, expecting it to explode, but nothing happened. It was one of the old traps, one Egon hadn't modified yet. When nothing happened for about one minute he took it and went back to where the others were still trying to trap the remaining Class-2's.

Suddenly somewhere someone screamed. No, it wasn't someone. It was Egon. Peter broke in a run and followed the noise that suddenly erupted. He burst into one of the smaller rooms which was filled with abstract paintings and nearly ran into a ghost. The bluish specter slimed the psychologist as it brushed over him, and disappeared into the next room. But instead of wailing and screaming in outrage that he had been slimed again, Peter stared at the scene in front of him.

Egon lay on the floor, his hands clutching his face, and whimpered slightly. His proton pack had been taken off and when Peter saw the thrower he drained of all color.

 _No. No, please, God, no!_

The thrower was a formless mass, connected to the pack by the cable. It was still smoking and sizzling slightly. Winston shut off the proton pack and then looked at Peter, who seemed to come out of a trance.

"Egon!" He ran over to his friend and knelt down.

Ray was already tending to the injured man and when Peter dropped down on Egon's other side he looked up, a fearful and strained look on his face. Peter gulped down his own fear and touched Egon's shoulder.

"Egon?"

The physicist was obviously in pain and his hands hid his face. Peter saw burned skin through the fingers, and his stomach transformed into a cold knot.

 _No......_

He tried to pry the fingers loose from Egon's face and finally was able to do so. He heard Ray inhale sharply and had to hold on to himself not to do the same. Egon's eyes were screwed shut and the skin around his eyes was burned and bruised.

Winston had called for an ambulance in the meantime and now returned from the phone call. "Ambulance will be here in a minute," he told the others calmly, though he didn't feel so calm inside.

"Egon?" Peter tried again, holding Egon's hand to prevent him from touching the wounds in his face.

"Peter?" The deep voice trembled with pain.

"We'll get you to a hospital, big guy. Stay calm."

Egon opened his eyes wide, staring directly at Peter, but there seemed to be no recognition in those blue depths. "Peter?" Egon's voice shook and he turned his head, blinking. "Peter?" he repeated, this time more desperate.

"I'm here, Egon." Peter felt an icy feeling spread in his whole body. No ....

"Did I hit the electrical cables?" Egon asked with barely controlled tremors in his voice.

"Electrical ....?"

The physicist gulped and tried to touch his eyes again, but Peter restrained his hands. "I ... I can't see," he whispered.

Peter seemed to fall into a bottomless hole when he heard those words. Forcing himself to stay calm and not show his sudden desperation, he squeezed Egon's hand. "The paramedics are on their way, Egon," he whispered and heard how controlled and neutral his voice sounded. It came from far off, not belonging to him. "We'll get you to a hospital in no time."

Inhaling deeply and steeling himself, Peter looked at Ray, wishing he knew what had happened, but afraid to ask. Ray's eyes were wide and he seemed to be falling into shock. Winston, seeing Peter's white, mask-like face went over to Ray and placed an arm around the occultist's shoulder. Ray leaned into the embrace and his eyes glittered wetly.

The sound of booted feet thudding on the floor told them of the paramedics' arrival.

 

* * *

 

Iviannjay felt a bit of disappointment rise inside of her when she watched the ambulance depart, followed by the car of the Ghostbusters. She hadn't planned for Spengler to get hurt. She had planned for him to get killed. But it hadn't worked that way. With a shrug she settled back and pondered what to do next. With Spengler out of action for the time being she had to deal with only three more Ghostbusters.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Harrison Hewlett stepped out of the emergency ward and looked round. Not far away three men sat on the uncomfortable looking orange chairs which presented the waiting area. Smoothing his white coat he walked over to them.

A young, auburn haired man looked up when he arrived. His brown eyes showed hope and fear at the same time. The dark-haired man at his side had his hand on the other one's arm as if to give him security through the touch alone. His face was empty of emotions, but his green eyes were burning with anger directed not at anyone of the group but himself.

"I'm Dr. Hewlett," the doctor introduced himself. "You're the Ghostbusters?" _Dumb question_ , he told himself. Judging from the jumpsuits those men could be nothing but the Ghostbusters. Still, all three nodded.

"I'm Peter Venkman," the dark-haired introduced himself. "How's Egon?"

Hewlett sighed, feeling an immense burden on his shoulders getting even heavier. This was something he disliked about his job - telling friends or relatives about the condition of a patient.

"Dr. Spengler has second degree burns on his face and throat. There are some minor scrapes, too. Nothing of this is serious, but ...," he hesitated, then continued, "we don't know about the damage to his eyes."

"His eyes?!" the auburn haired man asked, his face pale.

"You told me that your equipment, a thrower ...?" they nodded, "exploded. He must have looked directly into the explosion. His eyes are irritated and we have cleaned and bandaged them to prevent further damage."

"He's ... he's blind?" one gasped and three pairs of eyes stared at the medic.

"We can't say for sure," Hewlett said carefully. "We have to examine his eyes when the irritation is gone."

The auburn haired man bit his lower lip and Venkman's hand squeezed his arm slightly. "Thank you, Doctor Hewlett," he managed and Hewlett nodded, unable to say anything of comfort to them.

"Can we see him?" the black man, the third of the Ghostbusters, asked.

"Maybe in a few minutes. He's on his way to his room. I'll get a nurse to call you."

 

When the doctor was gone Ray's shoulders slumped and tears trickled down his face. "He's blind!" he whispered in desperation.

"Ray." Peter put an arm around the other man's shoulders. "He isn't blind. You heard what the doctor said. His eyes are only irritated."

Ray sniffled, wishing Peter's words would comfort him. He felt empty inside as his mind replayed the incident at the museum over and over again.

They had just trapped some of the ghosts in their proton streams when Egon's thrower had started to give off strange noises. The physicist had frowned at the device. The rifle had bucked upwards and before anybody could have done anything it had exploded in a blinding flash of light. Egon had let go of the thrower with a painfilled scream, clutching his face and falling to his knees. Winston had, without further delay, thrown a trap under the Class-2's and trapped them. The moment the trap's doors had closed the two Ghostbusters had rushed to their stricken colleague.

"How could that happen?" Ray whispered, unaware of the soothing movements of Peter's hand on his back. His mind reeled around the explosion. "The throwers can't explode!"

"Shh, Ray. This can wait."

"No!" Ray said forcefully. "It can't wait. It's like with the traps."

"You think somebody tampered with the throwers, too?" Winston wanted to know, shocked to the core. "But ... how?"

Before Ray could answer a nurse appeared and begged them to follow her. The three men did as they were told and minutes later stood in Egon's room. If possible, Ray drained even more at the sight of Egon in the hospital bed. The blond man's eyes were covered by gauze pads, held in place by a bandage. His glasses lay on the table. Peter held on to Ray's arm and it was impossible to say whether he did it to comfort Ray or take comfort from the touch himself. With an effort he straightened and painted a smile on his lips.

"Hey, big guy," he greeted Egon jovially, trying to sound nonchalant. But his voice didn't carry the carefree tone it normally did.

Egon's head turned the way the sound was coming from and he tried to smile. It failed miserably. "Peter?"

"Yeah, the one and only. Ray and Winston are here, too. Can't let you out of my sight, can I?" He walked over to the bed, taking Egon's hand. "Always getting yourself in all kinds of trouble."

Egon squeezed Peter's hand, recognizing the desperate attempt not to break at the sight of his injury. "Are you all right?"

"Not a scratch," Winston said. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," the physicist answered truthfully. "My eyes don't hurt and Dr. Hewlett said it might prove to be only an irritation."

Ray bit his lips at those words.

"I sincerely hope for you it proves to be only and irritation," Peter said sternly. "Else I'll be the one who's irritated."

Egon smiled at that. "Ray?"

"Yes, Egon?" Ray hurried over to Egon's bedside, taking his other hand.

"Something went wrong with the thrower. I don't know what it was, but something blocked the automatic security shut off."

Ray nodded, then, as he remembered that Egon couldn't see him, said, "Yes. I thought about it, too." His forehead wrinkled into a thoughtful frown. "But we didn't find any faults at the last inspection of the proton packs."

"Exactly. I think someone sabotaged the throwers."

The statement hung in the air and the three uninjured men stared at each other. Everyone thought the same. If the traps and packs had been sabotaged ... what else had been?

"I'll check out the packs when we get home," Ray promised. "And I check the rest of the equipment, too."

Egon nodded. Peter realized that this had been Egon's aim: take Ray's prime worry from the physicist and direct it at the others' health. The psychologist smiled. _Good move, Dr. Spengler_ , he thought with appreciation.

"Gentlemen?" The nurse had reappeared again. "Would you please leave now? Dr. Spengler needs some rest. You can come back tomorrow."

They said good-bye to Egon, promising to come back tomorrow as soon as possible, and left.

 

*

 

The ride back to Central was quiet. When they arrived at the Headquarters and got out of the car, Peter knew there was a new problem waiting for them. Janine. The redheaded secretary watched them climb out of Ecto-1 and drew her eyebrows together when she came up with three instead of the usual four Ghostbusters. And when she saw Ray's pale face and Peter's emotionless mask, she knew there was something terribly wrong. She stood up and looked at them.

"Guys ....?" She didn't want to ask the question that was on her mind.

Winston and Ray decided it was best if Peter talked to Janine about what had happened. They unpacked the proton packs from the converted ambulance car and carried them upstairs to the lab.

Janine stared at Peter as the psychologist stopped in front of her desk. "Where's Egon?" she finally asked, prepared to hear the worst news possible.

"There was an accident," Peter began and she paled. "He's at the hospital."

"Hospital," she repeated tonelessly. "What .. happened?"

"His thrower malfunctioned and backfired. He .. his face is slightly burned and his eyes are irritated."

"He hurt his eyes?!" In Janine's mind a picture popped up: Egon blinded. "No ..."

Peter forced a smile on his lips. "The doctor said his eyes are only irritated, Janine. They had to bandage them to keep them from getting more irritated. He'll be home soon." That was what Peter feverishly hoped for. He had had a short talk with Hewlett after they had left Egon's room and the doctor had told him something he hadn't said in front of the others because it was still uncertain. It might be that Egon's retina was damaged by the proton ray. And if that was the case...... Peter didn't want to think of the consequences.

Sitting down like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Janine inhaled deeply, her eyes glittering suspiciously. Peter walked around the desk, putting a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Janine turned round, wrapping her arms around Peter's waist. The psychologist stroked her head in a calming motion, biting back his own pain.

"He won't be blind, will he?" she whispered, her voice muffled by his sweatshirt.

Peter bit his lip. He didn't want to lie to Janine. "They said we have to wait," he said neutrally.

Janine looked up into his eyes and saw the desperation and the psychologist's own uncertainty there. She hugged him tightly again, trying to give him some security, then, with a sigh, collected herself, straightening.

"What exactly happened at the bust," she asked with a stable voice, wiping her eyes. "You said the thrower malfunctioned ..."

Peter stepped back, allowing her the distance she needed. He knew that Janine had the right to know what was going on, especially if she stayed at Ghostbuster Central. She might be in danger, too. That worried Peter the most - innocent victims. His mind tried to come up with a solution to keep Janine out of a possible line of fire.

When he had finished telling her what had happened at the last two busts, Janine stared open mouthed at him. "You think somebody's after you?" the gasped.

The dark-haired man nodded, feeling weary and tired all of a sudden. "We'll check all of our equipment if it has been tampered with." He hesitated. "Janine ... I want you to stay away from Ghostbuster Central as long as we don't know what exactly is going on here."

He had seen the reaction to his words built up in Janine as he was speaking. Janine's eyes held a dangerous light as she jumped up and stared at him.

"What's that supposed to mean, Dr. Venkman?" she wanted to know, her voice too calm. "You want to get rid of me?"

Peter returned her angry stare with a sad look. "No. I want you to be safe, Janine."

That statement hit her unexpected. "You need all the help you can get. Who's supposed to take the calls?" she tried to convince her boss. She didn't want to leave them.

"We won't go on any busts until this is solved. And we need someone to stay with Egon." He gave her a pleading look which wasn't an act. He truly meant it, Janine realized. "Please?" Peter added softly.

Janine gave in. "Okay. But only because it's Egon." She would have done it for anyone, even Peter.

"Thanks."

She gave him an encouraging smile. The dark haired Ghostbuster turned and walked up the stairs. Janine sighed and started to collect her things.

 

*

 

Ray was deep in thought as he took apart every thrower and every pack and checked for tampering or sabotage. It would take hours to get over all the circuitry and even more time to check all their equipment.

The door to the lab opened and Peter stepped in. He had changed out of his jumpsuit a short while ago and was now ready to aid Ray in any way he could.

Ray acknowledge his presence with a nod. "Where's Winston?" he wanted to know.

"Downstairs going over Ecto. He says he wants be on the save side with the car."

"But we inspected Ecto only two weeks ago."

"As we did the throwers," Peter reminded him and Ray bit his lip. "How are you doing?" the psychologist asked as he looked over the dismanteled proton pack. It was the one where the thrower had exploded.

"I can't say right now. I have to check the circuits and chips and all the connections. The cables, too. It'll take some time."

"Anyway I can help, kid?"

The auburn haired man shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Peter looked insulted. "Hey, I'm not a total idiot with technical stuff, you know."

Though he liked to pretend not to understand the slightest bit of what Ray and Egon always talked about, Peter did. But if he showed the guys he really did have a grasp of the technical side of their business, they would ask him to help - and that was a nightmare. Him, Peter Venkman, doing experiments in a lab! Nope. Not him. But now was something completely different. Egon was in hospital and somebody was after them, likely to hit again soon. They needed to know if all their equipment was sabotaged or not. Ray couldn't do it alone.

"I didn't mean that," Ray defended himself.

Peter went over to the other three packs which were still intact. He grabbed one of them and placed it on the second table in the lab. "Listen, I know how to handle a screwdriver. Let Dr. Venkman have a look if there's something askew, okay?"

Ray smiled as he watched Peter rummage through a drawer, coming up with the wanted tools. Then he set to work and Ray was only mildly surprised by the professionality with which Peter undid the safety clips of the shell of the pack and started to go over the circuits of the proton rifle. Peter was an intelligent man and being around Egon and him must have bled off some of the knowledge the other two Ghostbusters held on engineering and other stuff concerning the working of the traps and packs.

Concentrating on the work at hand Ray turned back to the malfunctioned thrower.

 

* * *

 

This first night after the nearly disastrous bust nobody could sleep very well. Winston, who had found nothing wrong with Ecto, lay awake and heard Peter turn and toss in his bed. Like him, the psychologist was unable to sleep. Ray wasn't sleeping well, either, moaning now and then. Peter had dragged Ray away from the proton packs somewhere around 1 a.m., telling him it was no use if he overlooked something because of lack of sleep. Ray had given in, though reluctantly, and had gone to bed.

Suddenly Ray gasped and a muffled cry escaped his lips. Winston heard Peter get up and move over to Ray's bed.

"Ray?" The soft and gently voice of the psychologist carried over to Winston and he smiled as he recognized the tone.

Ray gasped again and then Winston heard a cried 'Egon, no!' which stabbed at his heart.

"It's a nightmare, Ray. Wake up."

"Peter?" Ray's voice was that of a small, frightened child.

"It's okay, Ray. You were only dreaming."

Ray took deep breaths and Winston heard him shift in his bed uneasily. "I dreamed of Egon ... His thrower exploded and he ... died."

"No, Ray, Egon isn't dead," Peter soothed him. "He's in hospital and he's okay."

There was a lengthy silence and finally Ray sighed. "Who's doing this, Peter?" he asked. "And why?"

Winston had been asking himself the same questions all the time he was inspecting Ecto for sabotage. He had come up with no answer at all.

"I don't know, Ray, but when I get my hands on him, he's toast!"

Another silence.

"You okay?" Peter asked.

"I guess so. Sorry to interrupt your sleep."

"Couldn't really sleep. No problem at all."

Winston heard Peter return to his bed and get in. He tried to take his mind off what had happened in the last 24 hours but he just couldn't. Somewhere through the night he fell asleep, though it was an uneasy one.

 

*

 

The shadow whisked through the headquarters of the Ghostbusters and took in what he saw. There were so many possibilities and he had to concentrate not to loose sight of the immediate goal at hand. He picked up one of the discarded tools and set to work at the cable.

 

* * *

 

When Ray woke it was close to 9 a.m. Cursing himself for sleeping so long he got up and discovered that Winston's and Peter's beds were empty. With Winston getting up early was nothing new. But Peter ...? Then remembered what had happened and that this was one thing that could get Peter out of his usual habitude of sleeping long and being grumpy about getting up before noon if he had to.

He donned a quick shower and then went down to the kitchen. He had thought to see both of the other two Ghostbusters, but only Winston was in the kitchen. He greeted Ray with a smile.

"Mornin', Ray."

"Morning, Winston. Where's Peter?" Ray accepted a cup of coffee from the black man and settled down on a chair, feeling tired and still sleepy even after the night's rest.

"Don't know. I thought he'd be down here, but he isn't. My best guess is, he's in the lab."

Ray remembered the closed lab doors. He hadn't thought about looking there first, because he hadn't assumed that Peter would actually get up and go straight to the lab.

"I'll go and have a look," he volunteered. His cup still in hand, he took a second cup of coffee and walked upstairs again.

Opening the lab door with two cups of coffee was a bit difficult, but he managed without spilling more than a few drops. Peter was really in the lab, Ray saw to his partial surprise. He was bent over the proton pack he had been inspecting the night before, fully concentrating on the multitude of circuits in front of him. He didn't hear Ray coming closer and looked up, startled, as the younger man placed a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Mornin', Peter."

Peter blinked. "Ray," he managed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Did your mother never teach you to knock before entering a room."

"Knock, knock," Ray said immediately, smiling a bit.

Peter grinned in response, happy for the familiar banter, though it didn't come as easy as on other occasions.

"What are you doing here?" Ray wanted to know.

"Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd do something useful." Peter shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "I went over two packs and found nothing wrong." He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Since when are you up?" Ray wanted to know, again chiding himself for sleeping late.

"Dunno. Maybe five or six."

Ray remembered his nightmare and that Peter had been there for him. They had gone to bed early in the morning and counting in the time Peter had spent with Ray to soothe him, he couldn't have gotten much sleep.

"You should have woken me," he told the other man, sitting down on the second chair.

"And ruin your beauty sleep? Nope, no way." Peter took the cup and stared at the black liquid. Then he sniffed the air. "Smells like breakfast. Winston-style."

Ray nodded. "He's in the kitchen."

"So let's get downstairs. I'm starving."

Peter didn't really feel hungry, but he knew he had to eat something before he could get to work again. If he didn't, Ray would see that he did.

Ray got up, too, ready to follow Peter downstairs when he looked at the table. The proton pack lay scattered in pieces all over the table. Ray frowned at the mess, but not because he didn't think something was wrong. Well, there was something wrong, but not with the pack. It was something else.

One the table sat a pair of thin reading-glasses.

 

*

 

After breakfast Ray and Peter returned to the lab and Winston decided that he'd do the groceries after the dishes. It would take his mind of other things for a while and he didn't have anything else to do. Since Peter and Ray were absorbed in their studies - Winston couldn't surpress a grin when he thought of Peter actually working on a technical thing - he left the dishes to dry for themselves and climbed into Ecto to drive to the nearest supermarket.

 

*

 

Ray sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. The faulty thrower was still on his work bench as he went over it again and again. He couldn't really believe what he saw. Somebody had sabotaged it. And very subtly indeed. If Egon hadn't used it for more than ten minutes continuously, it wouldn't have exploded at all. But trapping those Class-2's had proven so difficult, that he had been firing the thrower for more than ten minutes in a row. The faulty circuit had collapsed, feeding power from the pack back into the rifle, thereby destroying the safety mechanism and exploding it.

Whoever it was, who did all this, he had a very good grasp of the mechanics of their equipment. That made Ray frown. He turned to Peter, who was working at the other table, and stopped.

Peter, hunching over the last of the three other proton packs, didn't see Ray because he was concentrating on the pack. The occultist didn't believe his eyes. Though it should have kicked him into thinking when he had found the reading glasses, he hadn't really given them conscious thought. And now .....

"Peter?"

Peter was slightly startled by Ray's voice and with a quick gesture hid the glasses from the other man's sight, then turning fully towards him. "Found something?" He looked innocently at Ray, who tried to look as if he had seen nothing.

"I found the faulty part." He explained quickly and added that whoever sabotaged them, knew a lot about the workings of a thrower or trap.

"I don't like the sound of it," Peter muttered, getting up and coming over to Ray. The younger man noticed the tiredness in the psychologist's movement, but didn't comment on it. He guessed he didn't look much better, though he had slept longer than Peter.

"What now?"

"I want to go over the spare packs and then have a look at the containment unit."

Peter nodded. "I'll take the spare packs. You can start with the containment unit." He didn't want to think of what hell would break lose when the containment field malfunctioned. It happened twice before and it had always been a catastrophe. "But before we get ourselves knee-deep into work again, I think we call it a lunch break, whaddaya think?"

Ray didn't feel hungry, but agreed. They left the lab and where halfway down the stairs when the phone rang. Taking the call at the extra phone Peter answered.

"Ghostbusters. I'm sorry, but we're ...." He stopped. "Yes. That's right. ....." His hand tightened on the receiver and his face drained of all color. "What?" he croaked and Ray looked alarmed at the reaction of the other man. "When? Is he all right?" As the caller answered the questions Peter relaxed a little, but only a little. "We'll be there right away. Thanks, officer."

When Peter had returned the receiver to the cradle Ray asked: "What happened? Who called?"

"That was the police. There was a car accident. Winston lost control of Ecto and crashed into another car." Peter's voice was completely emotionless. "He's all right. Just a mild concussion. He was wearing his seat belt, so he wasn't otherwise injured."

"No ....," Ray whispered, unable to utter more. First Egon, now Winston ......

Peter grabbed Ray's shoulders and shook him slightly. "He's all right, kid. It's only the car which's damaged. Come on, we get him from the police station."

Ray nodded, shocked and numb.

A few minutes later a cab arrived at Central and took them to the station.

 

* * *

 

Iviannjay felt uncontrolled anger rise inside of her. Again! Again a Ghostbuster had escaped the death trap she had constructed. How could her assassin have failed her again? She had told him exactly what to do and he had done it. He couldn't have disobeyed her. Not her!

Snorting and calming down by sheer force, she tried to think of a reason why her plan had failed again.

Then she remembered the strange interferences when she had tried to contact him. Hmmmmm. She decided to find out what could be held responsible for the interference.

 

* * *

 

".....and then the brakes failed and I couldn't stop Ecto from crashing into one of the parked cars." Winston shook his head, regretting it immediately as a hammering pain started behind his eyes. "I don't know how it could have happened! I checked Ecto through from bumper to headlights. It's impossible that I could have missed something big as that."

Ray patted the black man's arm and looked at Peter, who sat in one of the arm chairs in the living room of Ghostbuster Central. They had returned from the police station half an hour ago by cab. Ecto-1 was in the police car park and would be released the next day after the police had had a look at it. Failing brakes were nothing to be taken lightly. Either Winston had overlooked the faulty brakes while inspecting the car -- which none of them believed -- or somebody had tampered with the car. There was always the possibility that Winston had simply lost control of the car because he was inattentive. But neither Peter, nor Ray believed that. The three men hadn't lost a word about the other accidents. They didn't want police rummaging around Central, trying to find the one who had done it.

"That does it," Peter growled softly. "Somebody is walking around at night, sabotaging our equipment, and I'm gonna find out who it is!"

"Why didn't the alarm go off?" Ray asked.

They had switched on the alarm Ray and Egon had designed before the accident with the thrower and when Peter had shoved Ray towards the bedroom he had switched it on.

"Maybe it was sabotaged, too," Winston ventured, massaging his temples.

"I'll go have a look at it," Ray said and stood.

"And you should go to bed and rest," Peter ordered, looking at Winston.

"Not such a bad idea. And judging from your overall look, you could need some rest, too, m'man."

Peter shook his head, shooing the black man off to the spiral stairs. "No time. You go and rest, Ray and I pay Egon a visit."

 

* * *

 

Peter and Ray went over to the hospital by cab since Ecto-1 wasn't available, as was Janine's VW. Visiting hours had just begun and they weren't at all surprised to meet Janine. She was sitting on one of the chairs at Egon's bed. When they entered she greeted them with a smile.

"Hi, guys."

"Hello, Janine, hello, Egon. How are you, big guy?" Peter asked his blond friend.

Egon looked a bit better than yesterday, though his eyes were still covered. His angular face was sharply outlined and he was pale. Dr. Hewlett had met the two Ghostbusters in the corridor and told them there was nothing new on Egon's condition and that they had to wait some more days.

"Much better, Peter," Egon answered him and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "How are you?"

Peter looked uneasily at Ray. Janine noticed the hesitation and now wondered where Winston was. Egon turned his head as Peter didn't answer.

"Peter?"

Peter hesitated again.

"Where's Winston?" Janine finally asked.

Egon suddenly appeared alarmed, though his eyes were not visible, as was most of his face above his nose. "What happened to Winston?"

"The brakes of Ecto failed when he drove to the super market," Ray explained. "He's all right, just slightly concussed," he added hastily as he saw Janine's eyes widen and Egon tensing. "He's at home resting."

"What's going on?" Janine wanted to know. "First the trap, then Egon's accident," she gripped Egon's hand, squeezing it slightly when the physicist didn't try to pull out of the grasp, "and now Winston."

"We don't know," Ray confessed and then told Egon about the faulty thrower.

Egon listened to the explanation and frowned slightly. "You are right, Ray," he said after Ray had finished. "Whoever it is, knows a lot about our equipment."

"But could it be a ghost?" Peter asked with unease.

"It is possible. Ghost are not by nature dumb. Maybe one worked out the mechanism of the thrower and the trap and manipulated it."

"Then why didn't the alarm go off?," Janine wanted to know. "You said you switched it on."

"And it worked perfectly. It wasn't tampered with when I checked it today," Ray confessed. "It's really strange."

"You're right. It should go off when a stranger enters the rooms." Egon fell silent again and Peter was struck by the same thought as Egon. What if it wasn't a stranger?

The psychologist looked at Ray and saw the same idea forming in his mind. "You mean ....?" the occultist said, aghast at the idea. "You mean somebody from us did it?"

Janine gasped. "No, I don't believe that!"

"The alarm didn't go off," Peter said calmly, "but still somebody sabotaged the car. Winston checked it yesterday and there was nothing wrong."

"Maybe somebody put a spell on us so we didn't see the sabotage," Ray tried.

"Possible," Egon could be heard. "I suggest you examine yourselves at home for a possible spell."

"What if it isn't a spell," Peter returned to the immediate suspicion. "What if ....."

"No!" Ray said forcefully. "I don't believe it was one of us. And if it was, he didn't do it on purpose or under his free will."

Peter rubbed his eyes, feeling immensely tired. He hadn't slept much and this was getting more and more complicated. Winston's accident had only enlarged the burden he was carrying. With Egon in the hospital and Winston in bed they were down to two. Who was next? Peter didn't intend to play victim for some sick mind who wanted to kill them.

He frowned. Did he really want to kill them? All had been accidents. Accidents which could have been much worse but which had proven only to be harmful, not fatal. Maybe the person behind it all wanted to put them out of business for the time being, not kill them.

Ray and Egon were talking about the technical problems they had. Peter listened with half an ear as he pondered the possibilities of whether they were a target to kill, or a target to lay on ice for some time.

"Peter?" Ray's voice let him return back to reality and he blinked.

"What did you say?" he asked, surpressing a yawn.

Ray looked reproachfully at him. "You should sleep, Peter. You're dead-tired."

"No, I'm not."

"Peter worked nearly all night on the packs," the occultist explained to Egon.

Egon tried not to smile, but couldn't completely surpress it. "On the packs?" he repeated with fond amusement. He didn't see Peter grimace and shoot Ray a murderous look.

"If you ever try to use that against me ....," the psychologist growled.

Ray chuckled. "He went over all three of the other packs. I found him in the lab this morning."

Egon smiled, not trying to hide it this time.

Peter sighed in defeat. "Can we go home now?" he asked pleadingly. "If we stay here too long, Egon will get ideas."

Ray smiled and nodded. "I still have the spare packs and the containment unit to check."

Egon turned serious again all of a sudden. "You think somebody might try to sabotage the containment unit?" he asked.

"Right now I believe everything is possible."

Peter rubbed his eyes again and then noticed the strained lines around Egon's mouth for the first time. The blond man was still pale, but he also seemed unusually tense. And Peter thought he knew why. He exchanged a look with Ray and the occultist nodded, understanding immediately what Peter wanted.

"Come on, Janine," he turned to the secretary. "Let's get some coffee."

Janine looked first at Egon, then Peter, noting the suddenly serious look in the tired green eyes. She understood, too. When they had left, Peter came closer to the bed.

"How are you?" he asked softly.

Egon, surprised about the question he had answered already, turned his head in Peter's direction. "I'm fine," he repeated what he had said earlier.

Peter cocked his head, studying the other man. Egon wasn't fine. Something was worrying him. Very deeply.

"You know, I was really scared when I saw you at the museum," he confessed, his voice steady. "I thought we had lost you there for a second. And then the doctor said that your face was burned and your eyes were irritated." He sighed. "I felt helpless, Egon. Completely helpless."

Egon caught his breath, startled by Peter's open confession. Peter wasn't someone who ran around, announcing his emotional state to everyone. Never had been. Usually he kept his vulnerable self behind strong shields he erected solely for his defence. It had taken Egon some time to look behind the facade and discover the real Peter Venkman, the sensitive self of a man who liked to be underestimated. And it had taken him even more time to prove to the younger man that he'd never use this knowledge against him. Never. Now, for Peter to make such a confession of inner turmoil and fear in front of Egon .......

Egon held out his hand and Peter automatically took it, squeezing it gently, partly for his own sake, partly for Egon's comfort.

"I'm scared, too, Peter," the blond man said after some time of silence, the words an effort. He didn't like to confess his fears in front of Peter, who wasn't stable either. But he needed the other one's reassurance, his presence - just as Peter needed his. "Dr. Hewlett told me what I can expect."

"Me, too."

Egon tensed, his fingers tightening around Peter's. He had hoped to keep the possible fate of his eye-sight a secret, but he should have thought about the others.

"I asked him," Peter added. "I know, big guy."

"The others?" Egon wanted to know.

Peter shook his head, then remembering that Egon couldn't see him, said, "No. I didn't tell them. I don't think Ray could go through with it. If it really comes to that it's still too soon for him to know."

Egon nodded and Peter noticed that the physicist was holding on to himself, not to show how shaky he was. The possibility of permanent blindness was something Egon couldn't really cope with. Carefully, Peter lowered himself down on the edge of the bed, still holding on to Egon's hand.

"Do you want to talk about it, Egon?" he asked softly.

Egon shuddered slightly, but shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about," he lied in a completely neutral voice. "I have the facts and the possibilities. There's nothing I can change about the outcome, whatever it might be."

"Egon."

Peter's voice was calm and gentle, stopping the all-too scientific babble. He knew the other man long enough not to fall for the 'It's okay'-stuff. Egon might appear invulnerable and always cool and distant, but Peter knew better. He liked to see the blond man this way, but he had never ignored the fact that, like him, Egon had erected a shield around his inner self. Though for completely different reasons.

Right now, Egon was chewing hard on the facts. He was terrified of the blackness around him and that it might be forever. He turned his head away, biting his lower lip, but said nothing.

"You know," Peter continued in a conversational tone, "my prof always told me about cases were patients tried to be so brave in face of the others that they forgot their own emotions. And those surpressed emotions flooded back to them when they least expected it." Peter sighed. "I don't want that to happen to you, Egon. Don't try to handle it alone, because it will break you."

Egon was silent for a long time, only the rise and fall of his chest indicating life. "I.... I don't want to be," he faltered. "I don't want to be blind."

Peter heard how much this confession cost him. Dr. Egon Spengler, someone who was always in control, was unable to get back into control of this situation. He squeezed Egon's hand and the other one returned the squeeze.

"I don't want that, too."

"What if it is permanent?"

"Then we'll manage, too," Peter said firmly, not falling back to lines like 'It won't be permanent', because it might very well be. "But don't give up like this. You're no less worth a man than you were before the accident."

"I wouldn't be able to work any longer, Peter." The voice was desperate.

"I don't believe this, Egon. There's always a way. Dr. Hewlett told me that they can't be sure until they examine your eyes after the irritation is gone. Don't jump to conclusions."

"I'm of no use when I'm blind," Egon whispered desperately. "I couldn't be a Ghostbuster any longer."

Peter flinched inwardly at the pain and desperation Egon's voice carried, not knowing what to say, because Egon's statement was partly true. He wouldn't be able to bust ghosts if he was blind.

"You're not useless, Dr. Spengler. Never! Don't you talk like that." Peter's voice held an angry tone.

"Of what help would I be, Peter?" Egon asked with a forced neutral tone. He tried to see it from the scientific point of view, just matter-of-factly. It didn't work. The quiver in his voice was all to audible.

"You're not valued only because you can built crazy machines, big guy. I hope you don't think we keep you around because of that. We love you, Egon. There wouldn't be any difference if the blindness proved to be permanent. You're a member of the Ghostbusters and that will never change."

Egon drew a shuddering breath, trying to surpress the feelings of helplessness and desperation rising inside of him. It didn't work because he started to tremble. Turning away, he wished Peter would leave him alone with his pain, but at the same time desperately hoping he wouldn't.

Peter saw those battling emotions in Egon's overall body language. He simply bent forward, gathering the man in his arms. Egon clung to him like a child, his hands twisting into Peter's shirt. He shook uncontrollably now, the emotions of the last hours of uncertainty and loneliness set free. Peter held him tight, his hands stroking Egon's hair and neck, soothing him.

"I'm scared, Peter," Egon sobbed, breaking down. "I don't want it to be permanent. It can't be permanent!"

Another muffled sob escaped the physicist's lips and Peter tightened his grip on him, rocking him gently. He stroked Egon's head and neck, talking to him like to a small child. For a fleeting second he wondered if it was bad for Egon's eyes if he cried, but he shoved that thought away, glad that his friend finally released his inner pain.

After some time Egon let go and Peter lowered him back on the bed. He smoothed the unruly blond hair and Egon caught his hand.

"Thank you," he whispered, tiredness replacing the fear in his voice. "Thank you for being here, Peter."

"No biggie," Peter said softly, squeezing Egon's hand again.

The physicist didn't believe him and Peter knew that exactly. Soothing Egon, being there for him, letting him pour out his emotional pain, had taken a lot out of the psychologist. It was a 'biggie' for Peter to stay this calm and controlled, but Egon would never say it. Knowing it was enough and once he was better, he had to talk to Peter. Sometimes, even a psychologist needed someone to talk to. And Egon planned to be the one.

"You go and rest," Peter said softly. "Me and Ray will find whoever is responsible for it and trash him."

Egon smiled. "You should get some rest, too."

Peter grimaced. "Yeah, I will," he evaded a definite answer. "You want me to call Janine back inside?"

The blond sighed. "If you have to." But he was glad for the woman's company. It kept him from brooding.

"Janine it is."

Peter got up and left the hospital room. As he arrived outside, he leaned heavily against the wall, resting his head against the hard surface, inhaling deeply. He was tired beyond belief and there was so much more to do. Egon's desperation had eaten away at the protective shell Peter had erected around himself to withstand the onslaught of emotions the others threw at him. His legs trembled and his eyes burned with unshed tears.  Taking another, shuddering deep breath he straightened, collecting himself. It wouldn't do to let the others see him like that, though he was pretty sure they saw through his mask.

Sighing, he brushed a weary hand over his eyes and walked to where he had seen a coffee machine. Janine and Ray would be there.

 

* * *

 

Ghostbuster Central was very quiet and only Slimer's enthusiastic welcome gave a sense of normality. Peter fended him off as usual and Ray endured a wet, ectoplasmic hug from their mascot. Janine's desk was empty and the computer was switched off. It looked like their first day in business, without a secretary and without a single job in sight. The answering machine had recorded several calls and all were requests from people for the Ghostbusters to come over and bust ghosts. Peter made a mental note to call those people and tell them they had to wait. With only two men they couldn't go on busts, even small ones - there was always the danger of another sabotage.

They went up the stairs, Slimer floating ahead, and found Winston sitting in front of the TV, apparently asleep. The volume was turned down and a show flickered across the screen. Silently, Peter walked over, took the remote and switched off the TV set. This seemed to wake Winston because he blinked and sat up.

"Sorry," Peter apologized. "Didn't want to wake you."

"No problem. How's Egon?"

Peter told him about their visit while Ray went to the kitchen to make some coffee. He returned minutes later and gave the others a cup each. Then they settled down, sipping the coffee. Peter felt like he badly needed it. Pure caffein would have been better, though. Lack of sleep and worry combined let him feel drained and ready to keel over any minute. But he couldn't sleep now. He had to check the spare packs and maybe help Ray with the containment unit. And they had to make a quick examination of each other if any one of them was under a spell of some kind. The caffein boost helped a bit to waken him, though he knew it wouldn't last very long.

Ray, finished with his coffee, stood and headed for the stairs. "I'll get one of the P.K.E. meters Egon tuned lately to detect magic fields around a person. This should give us a clue if one of us is under a spell."

They had told Winston about the spell theory and the black man just nodded. Everything was possible. But the theory turned out to be wrong. Neither Winston nor Peter or Ray showed any signs of influence of the magical kind.

Ray switched off the meter and put it away. "I think I'll take a look at the containment field and the controls," he said.

Peter nodded, placing his cup on the table and refilling it the second time with the black liquid. "I do the spares." He drained half of his cup.

"Peter, you should really go to sleep. You look terrible."

"Look who's talking. You could be the star of 'Night of the Living Dead' yourself, kiddo."

Ray sighed and shook his head. Peter could be stubborn as hell and no-one would be able to drag him to the bedroom and make him stay if Peter wasn't either willing or unconscious.

Winston took the emptied cups and carried them into the kitchen, deciding though he had a headache it wouldn't hurt to try and make something decent to eat for lunch. Slimer followed him in the hope of food.

 

*

 

The day stretched into eternity. Peter, after checking out the spares and finding them okay and without faults, called the people who had asked for the Ghostbusters and made appointments with them. The men and women he called weren't overly thrilled that the Ghostbuster couldn't come right away, but they had to live with it - that is: the ghost. The Ghostbusters were unique.

Placing the receiver back in the cradle, Peter rubbed his burning eyes and stared at the list in front of him on the desk. It started to swim in front of his eyes. He blinked several times to get a clear picture again. His head started to throb painfully, though he had taken some aspirin an hour ago. There were still phone calls to make, including to the police to find out if something had come up on the inspection of Ecto.

"I hope this doesn't mean I'm without a job."

The voice startled Peter and he looked up, blinking, focusing on the female figure in front of him.

"Janine?! I mean, what are you doing here? I told you to ...."

"Bug off and see after Egon, I know. But I decided you two need help, with Winston injured."

"It's too dangerous," Peter protested. He frowned. "And I never told you to bug off. I put it in nicer words, you know."

Janine smiled. "Yeah, right." Then she turned serious again. "And don't tell me about danger, Dr. Venkman. I've been with you on busts. I know danger."

"This isn't a bust, Janine. This is an attack by an unknown being. It is trying to kill us. We don't know who it is or why it is doing it. Staying here will put you into very grave danger, 'cause everyone around us will become a target, too." The headache got worse and Peter knew he was snapping.

Janine crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I won't leave, Dr. V. That's final."

"I won't allow that," Peter said rather aggressively and stared at her. Green eyes challenged blue ones.

Janine returned the stare as she had done often enough in the last years. She was determined to win this argument, though she was acutely aware of the danger she was placing herself in.

"Won't allow?" She pronounced the last word with a dangerous tone, her eyes narrowing. "You may be my boss, Dr. Venkman, but I'm free to decide when I will do overtime and when not. Right now, I feel like doing a lot of overtime."

"But ..... ," Peter objected, desperately searching for a way to appease Janine and make her see reason. She had to leave Central. Her presence was another responsibility. Peter felt personally responsible for Ray and Winston now that Egon was in the hospital. And now Winston had been hurt and he didn't want Ray to get hurt, too. He didn't want anything to happen to Janine. And if getting her out of Central meant making her angry enough that she left on her own, he'd do exactly that.

"Forget it, Venkman. I'll stay." Janine threw him another challenging look. She knew what Peter was getting at and had no intention of letting him infuriate her. Okay, she was already angry, but not enough to turn on her heels and stalk out of the fire house. They needed her - even Peter, who was in no condition to go on like that.

Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes again, wishing he had another aspirin handy. He gave up. "Okay," he muttered. "You win. This time." He stood and swayed slightly as the world around him lost contour for a second. Catching himself, he straightened, seeing Janine's eyes watching him carefully.

"You really should get some sleep, Dr. V. You look like death warmed over - three times." There was genuine worry in her voice and she had to restrain herself to give in to her 'motherly' feelings and drag him upstairs.

"Thanks. You're great for a man's ego. I'm fine."

Janine snorted, but concern lingered in her eyes. She and Peter might spar often and she always bit back when he challenged her, but right now she was very worried about him. First Egon got injured, then Winston. And they didn't know who it was or why it was done. Now Peter was driving himself too hard for his own good, the lack of sleep taking its toll.

"Then you got a good make-up artist," she muttered.

Peter grinned at her and went up the stairs. "Call me if something comes up on the inspection of Ecto," he said.

"Sure do, Peter. But only if you promise to take a rest afterwards."

"Yes, Mom."

Janine stuck out her tongue and then sat down, going over the list of phone numbers she had to call. The guys would have a hell lot of jobs after they got out of this mess. And Janine firmly believed they would.

 

* * *

 

Iviannjay stalked her next prey. She had two options: either try Zeddemore again or make her move on Venkman. She had to wait and see.

 

* * *

 

Peter managed to get an hour of sleep this night, though it was disturbed by Ray's nightmare. The psychologist was really worried about the kid. Ray worked like possessed, taking apart the controls of the containment unit step by step, looking for every oh-so-little fault. The occultist had come into the bedroom late and undressed silently, trying not to disturb the others. Winston had already been sleeping when Peter had gone to bed, but Peter had been wide awake, hearing Ray come in. He had slipped off into a dreamless, light sleep, woken by Ray's moans and gasps.

Now at 3 a.m., only a few hours after he had gone to sleep, he sat on the couch, watching a bad movie, trying to keep his mind from wandering off to Egon and the accident. After calming down Ray, Peter had it found impossible to sleep, though he was on his feet for more than 48 hours now. Naps had all he had been able to take since the first accident, because every time things seemed quiet, the next problem came up. He kept himself going with medication now, mainly aspirin because of the never ceasing throbbing behind his eyes.

Sighing, he switched channels, trying to find something so boring it would lull him into sleep. Soft steps made him stop his channel hopping. He turned and, to his surprise, saw Ray coming down the spiral stairs. He didn't seem to see Peter because he went straight down to the first floor.

"Ray?" Worried, Peter got off the couch and followed him.

When he arrived downstairs, Ray was nowhere to be seen. Frowning he listened for footsteps or other sounds. Nothing. Then he noticed the light coming out from under the stairwell. Ray must have gone down to the containment unit. But why? To inspect it again? Ray wouldn't have come to bed if he hadn't been satisfied with his first inspection. Peter knew the occultist too well to believe he would go to sleep willingly if there was a major problem still to be solved.

The psychologist went down the stairs and opened the door to the basement where the containment unit was situated. The light in the basement was switched off and only the controls glowed in the dark. Afraid that Ray might hurt himself, falling down the dark stairs, Peter switched on the light. Then he scanned the basement, but there was no Ray.

"Ray? You here?" Peter called, walking downstairs and looking around.

No-one answered. After inspecting the whole basement, Peter shook his head, and headed upstairs again. Maybe he had imagined it. No, he hadn't imagine the light switched on in the staircase. But where had Ray gone? Deciding it couldn't hurt to check the bedroom, Peter walked all the way up.

Cautiously opening the bedroom door, so not to disturb Winston, he poked his head in and looked at Ray's bed. The bed was empty. So it had been Ray! But ... what was going on here? Peter was already closing the door to go back to the containment unit again when he noticed the soft, green glow on Ray's night stand. Frowning, a bit curious, he stepped into the bedroom and went over to Ray's bed. First he thought it might be the display of the radio Ray kept on his night stand, but now he noticed it wasn't. It was Ray's wallet! Since when did it glow in the dark?

Stretching out a hand, Peter took the wallet and opened it. The glow intensified and Peter had to close his eyes for a second because the light was so intense. He cracked his eyelids open again and tried to find the source of the mysterious light.

"What the ...?" Peter couldn't really believe it. He held the wallet in one hand and tried to peel away the transparent plastic layer of one of the pockets in the wallet to get to what he had identified as the source of the light. When his fingers touched the picture the light intensified for a second and then Peter screamed.

The pain came all of a sudden. It ran up and down his body like liquid fire and Peter screamed, letting go of the wallet. It fell down to the floor, the light dampening a bit. His whole body seemed to glow and the pain was unbearable. An invisible force hit him and he was thrown through the bedroom, connecting with the opposite wall. The wind was knocked out of him and he went down, gasping for air, unable to breathe for a second. Half conscious he lay on the floor, coughing and wheezing.

Winston, woken by Peter's scream, sat up abruptly and looked around. He saw something glow softly, then the glow vanished. A strangled, pain filled gasp made him jump out of his bed.

"Peter!" he called, running over to the other man and kneeling down beside him.

Peter's eyes were closed and he breathed heavily. When Winston touched him Peter whimpered.

"Peter?" he asked.

"Winston?" Peter croaked. His eyes opened and Winston saw the pain the other man was in displayed in the emerald depths. Peter licked his lips and inhaled deeply, wincing again.

"I'm here. What happened?" the black Ghostbuster inquired.

"I ... I don't know." Peter tried to sit up, but managed it only when Winston gave him a helping hand. "Ray's wallet started to glow and I opened it and then ......." Peter shivered. "It hurt me," he whispered, cradling his arm in his lap.

Winston noticed Peter's hand now and grabbed the other man's wrist. Peter ouched and tried to pull his hand out of Winston's grip, but the black man held on.

"Peter," he admonished and examined the hand. It was covered with first and some second degree burns.

Peter winced when Winston turned the hand to get a better look at it.

"We should get this cleaned up and get you examined by a doctor. You got some nasty burns there."

Peter stared at his right hand like he saw it for the first time. It didn't hurt now, but it sure would. And it had hurt - everywhere - when he had touched the picture. The picture! He stood up abruptly and swayed a bit, his body aching everywhere. Winston steadied the other man.

"Easy, Peter. That was one nasty collision you had."

"The picture!" Peter gasped.

"Picture?"

"In Ray's wallet."

Peter staggered over to the discarded wallet and stared at it. It had stopped glowing, lying on the floor. It was open and both men could see the picture in the transparent pocket. Winston knelt down and picked it up - carefully. It didn't glow and it didn't hurt him.

"What's that?" He took out the picture.

"That's a .... picture of Ray and Annie at the convention?" Peter stared at the picture as if he saw it for the first time. "But ...." He wanted to take it, but winced when his hand finally started to hurt - badly.

"Come on, let's get that burn cleaned up and bandaged. Then we'll get you to a doctor." Winston took the wallet and then guided Peter to his bed.

"No doctor. I'm okay." Peter stopped, swaying badly. "Ray! I did see him downstairs. He wandered down to the basement."

"What?"

"I was watching a movie when Ray came downstairs and went further down to the basement. I followed him, but didn't see him in the basement." He shook his head. "And now this ...."

"We'll go and look where he is in a second. First, your hand." With that Winston went into the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He was just on his way back when he saw Ray walking up the spiral stairs. The occultist didn't seem to notice him as he entered the bedroom.

"Ray?" The black man followed him.

Ray was walking straight to his bed, lying down and pulling his blanket over him. He rolled around and seconds later his breathing was that of a man in deep sleep. Peter was staring at the sleeping man, his mouth hanging open.

"Sleep walking?" Winston asked, studying the occultist.

Peter shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. He didn't look like a sleep walker. I can tell. Friend of mine used to do that at college. Drove me nuts. He always wandered around the campus."

"But then what happened?"

Peter glanced at the wallet Winston had placed on his night stand, then at Ray. Maybe there was a connection? Winston decided that Peter's hand needed treatment first, then they could theorize about Ray's nightly wanderings.

When he had wrapped the burned hand in a white bandage he closed the first aid kit and sat down beside Peter. "You really should let a doctor take a look at this, Pete."

"Tomorrow.  Promise."

Winston looked doubtfully at him, vowing to drag the psychologist to a doctor if he didn't go there voluntarily.

"What now? Wake Ray?"

"Let him sleep. He needs it. I want to take some readings of that picture first."

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't have. With that concussion of yours you should rest, too."

Winston shook his head slightly. "No, I'm fine. It's just a little headache. And with that hand you need help."

Peter sighed and stood up. "Okay."

Together they left the bedroom and went over to the lab.

 

* * *

 

Iviannjay leaned back in her chair, breathing heavily. She had been discovered! Peter Venkman had found the link to her assassin. And he had touched it. Damn him! Damn him all the way to hell and back! All the power she had channelled through the link to finally overcome the interferences had been absorbed by him. She felt weak now, completely drained. And she wasn't sure whether the assassin had completed his work or not. The moment the link had been disturbed, she had lost contact. Curse that human!

The female demon pondered her options. She had to wait, she decided. Wait and see how the situation developed.

 

* * *

 

When Ray woke, it was around 7 a.m. As with the previous morning he found Peter's and Winston's bed empty. Frowning, he grabbed his robe and went downstairs. The two Ghostbusters sat around the table and when Ray came over to them Peter looked thoughtfully at him.

"Morning, guys. What's up?"

Peter held out a P.K.E. meter to him. "What do you make of that?" he asked.

Ray took the meter, noticing the dark shadows under Peter's eyes and the tight lines around his mouth. Then he looked at the device, frowning as he deciphered the numbers printed on the small screen.

"That's a reading of a high, slightly magical field. From the power flux it could be a demon's aura, but it's faded, slightly dampened by something." He looked up. "Where did you get this from?"

Winston produced Ray's wallet and took out the picture. Ray gaped at it. "The picture?" he managed.

Both men nodded and Peter told Ray of what had happened last night. When Ray noticed the white bandage he paled a little.

"Are you all right, Peter?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's nothing. I'm more worried about you, kid."

"Me? Why?"

"You went kinda sleep walking tonight," Winston explained. "But it looked strange."

"Sleep walking?"

"Yeah, you came down the stairs, didn't say hello and wandered off into the basement. I followed you, but I couldn't find you downstairs." Peter looked closely at Ray. "How do you feel? Tired? Exhausted?"

"No, I'm fine. Actually, I feel much better than yesterday."

Peter rubbed his eyes. "I think we should take a look at the containment unit," he said.

"Why? I checked it yesterday."

"Yeah, and you wandered down there this night and your picture's got a demon's aura." Green eyes fixed on Ray. "I don't like that constellation."

Ray nodded, feeling  numb. A terrible suspicion rose inside of him. As if Peter had read his mind, he gave Ray a gentle clap on the forearm. "How 'bout something to eat now?" he asked.

Winston understood his cue and went off into the kitchen.

 

*

 

When Janine came to work at 9 a.m. she found the three Ghostbusters on the second floor.

"Hi, guys," she greeted them depositing a bag of groceries on the kitchen table. Then she noticed how depressed Ray looked and that Peter's right hand was wrapped in a white bandage. "What happened?" she asked anxiously.

"It was all my fault," Ray whispered and his large, hazel eyes held a despair that shocked Janine to the core.

"What?"

Peter squeezed Ray's arm and shook his head. "No, it wasn't, Ray."

"I nearly killed Egon and Winston - and now you!" the younger man choked.

Janine drained and sat down on a chair. "What happened here?"

Winston told her about Ray's nightly wanderings through Central, the glowing picture and Peter's accident. "We checked out the containment unit and some circuits were re-wired. If we had emptied a trap into the it, it would have blown sky-high."

"Oh, no," the red haired woman whispered. Her eyes lingered on Peter again, checking him for further injuries. His thin face was still as pale as yesterday and he looked even worse, but there were no visible injuries except for his hand.

"We also had a call from the police," the black man continued. "They say Ecto's brakes have been tampered with. Quite professionally, too. That's why they failed me after using them a couple of times and not right away."

"And it's all my fault," Ray repeated.

"No!" Peter's voice was stern and forceful. "It wasn't your fault. You were under an influence no-one of us knew about."

"Influence? You mean Ray's possessed?"

"Not exactly. We took readings of the picture of Ray and Annie at the convention. I don't really know what it is, but it's projecting a demon's aura." Peter wished Egon was here. The physicist would know what to do next. But Egon wasn't here. He was at hospital and they had a crisis at hand that needed solving.

"You think there's demon behind all this?"

Winston and Peter nodded. "Looks like it."

Ray looked miserably at his feet.

"But ......" Janine started.

Peter raked his fingers through his thick hair. She noticed his hands were trembling. "We have to find out who it is." He looked at Ray. "Think you're up to it, buddy?"

Ray heaved a shuddering sigh, collecting himself and donning a mask which could have come out of Peter's repertoire. "Yes," he finally said.

"How are we gonna find the one responsible?" Winston wanted to know.

"I could check the readings we have from the picture with what we have in Tobin's Spirit Guide," Ray volunteered.

Peter, happy that Ray was getting into action, nodded. "Good idea."

Ray gave a hesitant smile and stood. "I get to work right away."

"What about the picture?" Winston wanted to know.

Peter frowned. "How about putting it in the containment unit? It's best kept in there, you know."

The other two Ghostbusters shrugged.

"We might need it, though," Ray put in. "Maybe we can put it in a trap for the time being."

"Good idea. You go and check the readings, Winston and I take care of the picture."

"I can do it," Winston said. "You go and take a nap, Pete. You look ready to drop dead."

"I am already dead," Peter muttered under his breath. He felt terrible. "You sure you don't want help?"

"To put a picture in a ghost trap? No, don't think so." The black Ghostbuster grinned and got up, too. He and Ray disappeared and Peter was left alone with Janine.

"I should call Egon," the psychologist muttered, massaging his stiff neck.

"I'll do it, Peter," Janine said. "Winston's right, you know. You should sleep."

"You suddenly got motherly feelings, Melnitz?" the dark haired man muttered, but he was already stretching out on the couch.

"Certainly not for you, Venkman," she retorted, but the look in her eyes belied her words. She watched Peter make himself comfortable on the couch and then went downstairs to make the call to hospital.

 

*

 

Janine didn't reach Egon by phone because he was currently examined by the doctor. Deciding it would do Peter no good to wake and tell him, she resumed her normal work, though her thoughts wandered off.

Upstairs, Winston and Ray were busy with Tobin's Spirit Guide. Ray had switched on the computer and now they were comparing the readings to the descriptions in the Guide's chapter about demons. Winston noticed Ray's tense posture. The younger man was working on what Peter and Winston had told him - that he had been and maybe still was controlled by another being, possibly a demon.

Winston remembered that Peter had wanted to keep this control a secret from Ray, had wanted to find out who this demon was and then bust him. But Winston had reminded him that they couldn't keep this from Ray, especially if they started to use Tobin's or began to read books about demons who might be able to exceed such control via a small object. So Peter had given in and they had confronted Ray.

Ray had taken it all much better than both had expected, but now it began to show. He was stonefaced, his eyes fixed on the screen and he was scanning through the files with a determination that was frightening.

"Got another one," the occultist suddenly said and Winston looked up.

'Lahopulos Njhihjkola' the name read and Winston had trouble imagening how to pronounce it.

"It's a lower class demon," Ray read. "He can control the minds of certain persons, especially the weak and the children."

Winston shook his head. "Doesn't sound like the one who could take it up with you."

Ray gave him a wry grin. "Thanks, but I think we still should make a note of that name. Might be him after all."

The black man nodded and tried to write down the name, every now and then looking up to see were to put which letter. Ray went on. When the door opened and Janine entered, only Winston looked up, smiling at her. She was carrying a tray with cups and sandwiches.

"Here, guys. I thought you'd need it."

"Thanks, Janine."

The secretary smiled and left the room again, not asking how it went because she had seen Ray's face and read his body language. Leaving them to their work she went down again and stopped when she saw Peter. He was still sleeping, three hours in a row now, and he looked like a little boy, his hair unruly, his face slightly flushed, displaying more color than in the last 24 hours. She tiptoed past him.

"Janine?" The blurry, sleepy voiced stopped her and she turned. Peter had woken and he blinked dazedly at her. Sitting up, he shoved his hair back and tried to stiffle a yawn. "How's Egon?"

Janine sighed. "I called the hospital, but he was on his way to the ophtalmologist. They told me to try later." She eyed him. "Want some coffee?"

"That would be great." He gave her a smile and stood, following her into the kitchen. "Where are the others?"

"Upstairs, going through Tobin's." She handed him the cup. "Peter, I'm worried about Ray," she confessed. _And about you, too, though I'd never tell you that face-to-face._

"Me, too." Peter sighed. "I didn't want to tell him about the demon, but Winston said we couldn't keep it a secret from him, so I did tell him. Now he's feeling guilty. And he's also afraid." He took a sip of the black liquid, then shook his head. "He's keeping his act together, I can tell, but it's eating away at him."

"Why don't you talk to him, Dr. V?"

Peter smiled wryly. "Because he won't really let me. We talked to him before you came and he was riding himself deeper and deeper into his guilt. And suddenly he got all busy. He wants to find this demon and he won't rest until he does. But I'm afraid of what might come of we discover who it is."

"You have a suspicion?"

"No. I don't really know how the demon managed to use the picture of Ray and Annie as a medium to reach Ray. And it also seemed to work only at night when Ray was asleep." He emptied the cup. "I think I'll try to phone Egon. Thanks for the coffee, Janine."

"Anytime."

"I'll get back on that offer." Peter grinned and Janine threw a dish towel after him as he fled the kitchen.

 

*

 

"A demon?" Egon's voice held a note of interest and disbelief at the same time. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I took readings of the picture and it showed a demon's aura. Ray confirmed it."

"You told him?"

Peter sighed, leaning back into his chair and giving his burning eyes a rub. "Yes, we did. He and Winston are going through Tobin's for a match with the readings."

"Tell me about the readings," Egon said.

Peter described what he had seen on the small read-out screen and he imagined he heard Egon frown.

"It used a picture?" the physicist asked after Peter had ended.

"Yeah, it's the one which shows Ray and Annie at the con."

"Hm. And Ray acted only at night, so it seems. And he didn't show any after effects. Did he have nightmares afterwards?"

"No. Before." Peter felt a slight unease. "Because of ..... your accident."

There was a silence at the other end of the line. Peter had called Egon a few minutes ago and had asked about the result of the examination of his eyes. The blond man had told him that the doctors had been pretty sure that there would be no permanent damage. Peter had felt utterly relieved.

"I see," Egon finally said. "But he didn't dream about wandering around Central or things like that?"

"No."

Another silence.

"You got an idea which demon this could be?" Peter wanted to know when the silence stretched.

"Not yet. I have to think about it. I wish I had a copy of 'Tobin's'."

"I could come over and take the laptop along," Peter offered. "With Winston and Ray working at the computer I don't have anything else to do."

"Except for sleeping."

Peter groaned. "Why does everyone want to get me to bed? Janine might have a reason, but ...."

"Peter," Egon interrupted him gently.

"Listen, I'll grab a cab and be over in half an hour."

"If you wish."

Peter grinned. "You count on it. See ya."

 

* * *

 

Ray looked at the list of five names Winston had written down. All five demons had the power to control other beings. Sighing, he leaned back.

"What now?" Winston wanted to know.

"I don't know. The readings are so inconclusive that we can't pinpoint the demon. All those demons have the same abilities, but their readings differ. And because the readings of the picture were dampened by some kind of energy field, we can't find the demon via them."

At that moment the door opened and Peter poked his head in. "Yo, guys! I just talked to Egon at the hospital. He says the doctors think he'll be fine."

The other two men let out a sigh of relief.

"He also said he wanted to have a look at Tobin's. He might have an idea whom we are dealing with."

"We already got five names." Winston held up the slip of paper. "We just don't know which of them it might be."

"I could look them up in the books about demons I have," Ray volunteered.

Peter frowned a bit. Ray not wanting to come along to the hospital?

"I'll help." Winston stood and gave Peter a copy of the names. "Four eyes see more than two." The look he gave the psychologist told Peter that Winston was as surprised as he was.

"See you guys later. Call if there's something coming up." Peter grabbed the laptop and went for the door again.

"Will do."

 

*

 

Egon looked ways better than the day before, though he was still a bit tense. Peter had a good guess that the physicist was still too shocked about the nearly permanent damage to his eyes to relax now. Both men set to work and after Peter had read the names of the five demons, Egon gave him precise orders where to look in the Guide. Then the psychologist read to him what was written about the demons and Egon sometimes told him to look up different files. It was slow work.

"Iviannjay," Peter read the fourth of the five names. "Female demon." He stopped. "Female? Never knew there was a female side." He looked at the picture on the screen which showed a tall, slim, humanoid figure with reddish-yellow skin, a mane of dark red hair and two horns curling down the sides of her face, giving her the look of someone wearing  sheep's horns. She had black eyes, vampire like fangs and four fingered claws with long talons.

"There are rumors about female demons," Egon immediately lectured. "But few have been sighted so far. Female demons are known for their scheming and shape shifter abilities, but they're not as aggressive as their male counterparts."

"Aha. Well, she's better looking than all the other demons I have seen so far. With a little manicure and a dress, she might even get me to date her." He grinned.

"Peter ...." But there was a smile playing over Egon's lips. "What does Tobin's say about her?"

"She's a high class demon, able to shape shift pretty well, and she is known to be able to control other people's minds. That's it."

"Nothing about how she does it?"

Peter scanned the screen and then scrolled it forward. "Well, it says here she can control the mind by using something that's been in her possession or has been in touch with her aura." He frowned. "Whatever that means."

"It means that anything she touches can act as a channel for her. But it will also loose its power after some time." The physicist frowned. "Except if it is banned to the object."

"Banned?"

"Kept in place." Suddenly Egon tensed visibly.

"What is it?" Peter asked anxiously. "You in pain?"

"Peter, the picture!"

"What about it?"

"It was the link to the demon. And a picture is a standstill of something. This picture showed Ray and Annie."

"You don't wanna say that Annie ...." Realization hit him and he drained of all color. "You mean she's a demon?!"

Egon nodded. "It is possible. If she banished a part of herself on a photo, part of her aura will be banished there, too. And through this banished part of her's she is able to get in contact with Ray. You said Ray looked like he was sleep walking. I guess she used Ray's mind at night when he was asleep and more responsive because his conscious mind wouldn't be too active. When you touched the picture, all her power was channelled into you."

Peter rubbed his bandaged hand. He had been in the emergency room before visiting Egon and the nurse had cleaned the burns again, re-bandaging them and giving him some pain killers. They had told him that the burns would be painful for some weeks and that he had to be careful with his hand. Peter stared at the white bandage over Egon's eyes, knowing the pain he must have felt when the proton ray had burned his eyes.

 "Yeah," he muttered. "Great experience. Just don't want to have it again."

"How are you?" Egon inquired.

"Fine. I'm indestructible, y'know," the psychologist said all-too brightly. For a second Peter was glad Egon couldn't see him. But lying to Egon had never been easy. Though the other man couldn't see him, his knowledge of Peter and his sharp hearing told him more than his eyes could have.

The physicist cocked his head slightly, not saying anything.

"What now?" Peter wanted to know, trying to change the subject.

"You have to find Annie - Iviannjay - and stop her."

Peter smiled humorlessly. "Always sounds so easy when you say it, big guy. She's a demon, remember? And she's got control over Ray."

"She can't always control him. You mentioned Ray's nightmares before he started sleep walking. I guess that was what dampened her field around him. She couldn't get through to him because part of his mind was active. So she used more power and when she finally got control, she was too weak to make him do exactly what she wanted him to do."

"Could she control him without the picture, too?"

Egon nodded. "I think so, yes. She just has to be close enough."

"How close is 'close'?"

"I don't know. But because you absorbed her power she's weakened. You could really trap her with the streams."

"Great," the psychologist said again, massaging his  neck, fatigue washing over him in big waves.

"Peter?" The quiet voice made him stop in mid-motion and look up.

"Yes?" He tried to keep the tiredness out of his voice, but failed.

"How do you feel?"

"Me? I'm just fine."

"You're under a lot of pressure," Egon said softly.

"We all are," Peter said immediately. "Ray especially since he knows what happened to him and that it was, in a way, him who did all the sabotage."

"I'm not talking about Ray, Peter," Egon chided. "I'm talking about you."

"I can take the pressure." The psychologist sounded defensive, his walls securily erected around him again.

"Please don't try to take it all on yourself," Egon continued unpertubed. "You're not responsible for what happened."

"I don't feel responsible," Peter objected immediately.

Egon smiled a bit, knowing better. "If you say so. But I still want to give you an advice: don't take it on all alone. Let the others help."

"Ray's in no condition and Winston's still shaky from the crash. I don't want them to ...."

"Peter. Stop that. I remember someone telling me about people trying to be so brave in face of the others that they forgot their own emotions." The physicist smiled a bit. "Guess you know him, too."

"Eat your own medicine. Good advice, Doctor." Peter sighed, smiling, too. He stood and straightened. "I'll go and talk to the others 'bout Iviannjay. Especially Ray."

"Yes." Egon turned his head and listened to Peter's footsteps and the closing of the door. He sighed. He was pretty sure that Peter wouldn't listen to what he had said.

 

* * *

 

"No!" Ray stared at Peter, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. "It can't be! It's not true. Not Annie!"

Peter looked calmly at him, but deep inside he hurt as he saw his friend deny what he had just been told.

"She can't be a demon!"

"But she is," Peter repeated. "Egon and I went over her file and there's a 89 % propability that she is Iviannjay and used the picture to control you at night."

Ray shook his head. "No, I don't believe this. It's wrong. She can't be a demon."

"Ray ..."

"I'll go and have another look at the books." With that Ray disappeared from the room.

Peter leaned back and closed his eyes wearily. He had guessed that something like that would happen. Annie was a very good friend, though Ray knew her only for a few weeks. But Ray was someone who made friends quickly - and who trusted them immediately. He wouldn't believe that someone was evil until they had shown him 100 % proof. Right now they had only the readings and a picture. And Egon's theory.

"I'll go and talk with him," Winston offered.

Peter shook his head. "No, better not. Let him think it over."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Do you have Annie's address?" Peter wanted to know.

"I go and ask Janine."

The psychologist looked after the black man as he went downstairs and decided it couldn't hurt to get another cup of coffee.

 

* * *

 

Ray stared at the low building on the other side of the street. It was only three storeys high and painted in a soft, brown color. It wasn't a busy street and there were few people walking on the sidewalks.

He had been standing here for about 15 minutes, unable to decide what to do. Peter's words seemed to be burned into his mind. _Annie is a demon called Iviannjay. She controls other beings through objects she gives to them as presents._ NO! No, it couldn't be! He didn't believe that Annie was a demon.

But there was this slightly nagging feeling that there might be the tiny chance that Annie was a demon. If so, Ray was determined to stop her. For a fleeting second his mind reminded him of the fact that he didn't have a proton back or, more important, back-up. But this didn't matter now. He had to make sure. He had to make sure that Annie wasn't a demon. _And if she really is Iviannjay?_ his mind asked.

 _No, she isn't_ , he thought stubbornly.

It wasn't that he was in love with Annie Long. He just liked her a lot. She was the first who really understood his hobbies and shared them, not only pretending to be interested - that is, the first female who understood and was interested.

Ray crossed the street and sought out Annie's name on the mail boxes. She lived on the third floor. Now, that he thought about it, Annie had never told him very much about herself. He had done most of the talking. And they had never met at her place, always at Central or somewhere in the city. Ray frowned, doubt rising inside of him.

 _Nonsense_ , he chided himself. _She's just like any other girl._

Arriving on the third floor he looked round. There were two doors, one lettered 'Heywood', the other one unmarked. This had to be Annie's. Ray inhaled deeply and knocked. First, nothing happened, then someone came.

"Hello, Annie," Ray greeted the smaller woman as she opened the door, then stopped.

Annie looked decidedly pale, like she hadn't slept for some time. Her eyes held a strange, slightly cold look. The look in her eyes changed the moment she saw Ray and the occultist thought he must have imagined it.

"Hello, Ray," she returned the greeting and opened the door completely to let him in. "How are you? What brings you here?"

Ray stepped in, taking in the scarce furnishing of the room. There was a table and a chair in one corner, a couch in the other. A small TV stood on the table and the window was covered with dark clothes, which gave the room a decidedly twilightish atmosphere. A lonely lightbulb lit the room and Ray felt unease creep up inside of him.

"Well, the guys said something and I didn't ...." He licked his dry lips. He felt like he was being scrutinized by something large and predatory. He turned, but there was only Annie, with her innocent face and her completely normal appearance.

"What did they say?"

Was it his imagination or was she suddenly growing in size. Ray blinked and Annie's shape returned to normality. When she stepped closer, he backed away. _It was a dumb idea to come here alone_ , the tiny voice of reasonable thinking told him. But now it was too late.

"They said that you're ... might be ... a demon." He forced a smile on his lips.

Annie seemed to ponder the words, coming closer. "Well, you see, Ray ..."She stopped in front of him, smiling sweetly. "I am."

With that she transformed in front of his eyes, her body reshaping itself. Ray backed away with a scream. He felt the wall behind him and knew he was trapped. Annie - Iviannjay, he reminded himself - stood between him and the door.

"I'm so sorry that your friends had to find out so soon," the female demon purred. "But that doesn't matter."

"Why did you do this?" Ray yelled, his fear making way for anger. "You made me nearly kill my friends! You used me! Why?"

"To destroy you, of course. You were only a tool for me because it's forbidden for my kind to meddle in your affairs directly. And you were the perfect candidate. No-one would have expected an innocent. It's an ingenious plan to use you through a link. Your soul couldn't warn you through dreams. I was really save." She smiled cruelly. "It's just sad that my plan to kill your friends one by one didn't work out as I wished. Your mind interferred, though I don't have the slightest idea how it could have withstood my control."

"But now you've lost!" Ray told her coldly. "You lost your control over me and the others know about you. They will come and trap you!"

Iviannjay clicked her tongue. "I don't really think so. One of you is out of the game. Another one is injured and the third is in no state to seriously threaten me. And you," she clicked again, "you are here." She smiled, revealing her fangs. "And by coming here you made a mistake."

"You made a mistake trying to hurt us! The guys will come!"

"Such hope, such trust." Iviannjay shook her head. "Foolish, foolish." She touched his shoulder and Ray felt her sharp claws through his sweat shirt. "Why don't we go to your friends instead of waiting for them?"

Ray felt like frozen as he stared into those glowing eyes. Iviannjay chuckled and suddenly Ray could feel an alien presence in his mind. He fought against the invader, but lost the battle. The female demon's face seemed to grow in front of him, twist, re-shape and then form back into what he knew as the face of Annie Long. Annie looked at him with her innocent eyes and then smiled.

"Come, Ray. Let's visit your friends." The voice was directly in his mind and he shivered.

Ray felt himself move against his own, free will. His feet took him through the room, out the door and down to the street. Annie was at his side, her hand holding his, and they made the overall impression of a young couple. Ray wanted to scream, to fight back against the control she exerted over him, but it was no use. Trapped in his own body, he had to sit back helplessly.

 

* * *

 

"Peter? Have you seen Ray?" Winston came up the stairs.

Peter shook his head. "No. Haven't seen him since we told him about our suspicions. Why?" He sipped at his third cup of coffee. Somewhere in the fuzzy mass that was his mind a voice told him about caffein and that it was like a drug when used in too high dosages. Especially if the person concerned didn't eat very much and took a lot of painkillers. But the rest of his mind didn't listen to the tiny voice.

"He isn't downstairs and he isn't upstairs either. Maybe he went for a walk?" Winston looked inquiringly at the other man.

Peter frowned. That didn't really sound like Ray.  "You think he might have gone to Annie?"

"Would be like him, but I don't think he'd be foolish enough to go there without back-up."

"Believe me, he would. Did you find Annie's address?" Peter was worried.

"Nope. Janine doesn't have it in her computer and it isn't marked down in the address book Ray usually keeps. I went though the phone book and called the different Anne Long's, but no such luck. None of them is our Annie."

"Maybe she fooled you and pretended not be herself."

"Maybe, but I don't believe it. Since when do demons have a phone?"

The psychologist sighed. Suddenly they heard the door open and close.

"Guys?" The voice of Ray Stantz carried up the stairs.

"Looks like he really was out for a walk." The black Ghostbuster shrugged and went for the stairs. "Let's see what he wants."

Peter followed Winston, and they went downstairs.

"Ray, what's up, buddy ...," Peter began and stopped mid-sentence. There, in the middle of the firehall, stood Ray. And at his side was ......

"Annie!" Peter whispered.

"Guys, I went over to Annie and talked to her," Ray said, his voice light. "I told her about your suspicions and she isn't a demon."

"How did you make sure?" Winston wanted to know, his face showing suspicion as he eyed the woman.

"I ..." Ray faltered and for a second Peter saw desperation in his eyes. A desperation that wasn't born out of the fact that he couldn't explain something to them. This sat deeper.

Peter edged closer to the cabinets that contained their proton packs.

"I ...." Ray uttered again. "I took readings." The smile was back on his face and Peter noticed that Annie seemed to relax slightly. He remembered what Egon had told him about her powers. If it was true, she was too weak to exert a very powerful hold on Ray. Everytime Ray fought back against her, she needed more strength.

"Readings?" Winston continued, knowing he had to buy Peter the time he needed to get close enough to the cabinets to get a pack. "Can I see them?"

Ray's eyes went wide and he searched for words. Annie looked slightly strained. That was when she noticed Peter, who stood by the cabinets. She turned, very slowly, and Peter stopped dead in his tracks. Her large eyes suddenly held an icy, threatening glare and the psychologist gulped.

That was the moment the front door opened and Janine came in. She was carrying four boxes of pizza. Annie heard the door open and turned. Peter made a run and jump for the cabinets and pulled out a proton pack, sliding it over the floor toward Winston. The black Ghostbuster caught the pack and grabbed the thrower.

Annie hissed and her shape seemed to shift, twisting into something more ugly - like a reddish-yellow skinned demon. Janine let go of the boxes, staring at the changed woman in astonishment. She wasn't really afraid - she had seen demons and ghosts since working for the Ghostbusters - simply amazed.

Winston fired his thrower and a second beam met with his'. Peter stood braced against the cabinets and was aiming straight at the large demon. His right hand couldn't quite hold the thrower because of the bandage, but he steadied the rifle as best as he could. Iviannjay twisted in the streams, screaming in rage. Unlike other demons, Iviannjay seemed to be unable to break free of the streams. Peter remembered Egon's words. _She is weakened. You can trap her._ Changing the setting to the highest output level, he kept his proton stream on target.

Another, third beam hit the demon and it hissed. Peter looked for the source of the stream and discovered Janine, a pack on her back. She looked grimly at the female demon.

"Trap!" Winston shouted and threw a ghost trap.

"No!" Iviannjay screamed. "You can't trap me, humans! I will destroy you all!"

"We'll see about that," Peter muttered grimly, sweat glistening on his face.

Winston opened the trap and the female demon felt the suction as she was pulled towards the little device. She kept on screaming and fighting, and Peter felt his thrower waver. He wouldn't be able to maintain full power very much longer. The handle was already growing warm and his arms ached from holding the rifle on target, not to speak of his hand. It hurt like hell. Peter gritted his teeth against the agony in his right hand. The power flowing through the rifle was too much for him to control. Winston and Janine had the same problems.

Then Iviannjay disappeared in the trap. Peter switched off his thrower. He swayed with exhaustion and pain, feeling his knees buckle. His right hand was on fire and it took all the will power he had not to scream. Winston's alarmed 'Ray!' made him look up. The occultist had crumbled to the floor and Peter didn't loose a second. He ran over to the other man and knelt down a this side, biting back his own pain.

"Ray?" he called anxiously.

Winston was already searching for a pulse and gave a brief, relieved nod when he had found it. Peter patted Ray's cheek lightly and the younger man moaned.

"Come on, kiddo, don't play sleeping beauty with me. Or do you want me to kiss you awake?"

Ray moaned again and his eyes opened a crack.

"Peter?" he whispered hoarsely.

"The one and only. You okay, Ray?"

The auburn haired man blinked in confusion. "What ...... happened?" Then his eyes widened. "Annie!"

"No problem. She's in the trap, homeboy."

Ray tried to sit up and Winston had to help him. The occultist staggered a little and he was pale. And he looked very tired.

"Let's get you upstairs," Peter decided and got to his feet.

Ray went along willingly, leaning onto Peter and Winston, as the two other men got him to the bedroom. His eyes were drooping and he had trouble staying awake. Whatever control Iviannjay had exerted on him, it had tired him very much.

Janine decided it wouldn't be good to follow them and took the trap and the discarded packs and pizza boxes.

When they arrived upstairs, Ray simply fell into his bed and rolled around. His eyes went shut and he was asleep within a second. Peter grinned a bit.

"That was quick."

Winston nodded. "Let's go and clean up downstairs. We still have a demon to put in the containment unit. And I think I'll have a look at your hand, homeboy."

Peter looked at his right hand. It hurt badly and there was blood seeping through the bandages. He nodded and they silently left the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Ray woke with a terrified scream. He threw his hands up, trying to fend off an unseen attacker. Someone grabbed his wrists, talking softly to him. He tried to jerk away, fear and terror giving him an incredible strength. He hit something soft and heard a startled 'oouff'. Trying to get away from his attacker, Ray tried to scramble out of his bed, only to meet resistance again. He fought off the hands again, extracting another painfilled wheeze from the attacker.

"Ray!" The sharp voice made him stop and blink. Someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly. "Ray! It's only a dream. Wake up, kid!"

"Peter?" he whispered, blinking again.

"Yes, it's Peter. Everything's okay."

"I ...." Ray inhaled deeply, relaxing slightly.

Peter let go of Ray's shoulders as the younger man slumped against the head of the bed. Ray was drenched in sweat, his hair unruly and his eyes haunted.

"It's okay," Peter repeated softly.

Ray stared at him with fear. A fear born out of a terrible experience. "She won't come back, will she?"

Peter bit his lip as he heard what he had been afraid of would happen. "No, she won't. She's safely in the containment unit."

"I didn't want her to ...." Ray stumbled and a shudder passed through him.

Peter sat down beside him on the bed, draping an arm around his shoulders. "Shhh."

"She was in my mind, Peter," Ray whispered. "She controlled my body and I could only watch!" She shuddered again and tears welled up in his eyes. "And when she was there in my mind she told me all that I did. I sabotaged the trap and the thrower. I nearly killed Egon and I hurt Winston because I tampered with the brakes. And .... She laughed at me. She really liked it ....." The flood of words was broken by a sob and Peter pulled the other man closer, rocking him gently.

"It wasn't really you who did it, Ray. She used you to obtain her goal, but she didn't succeed. Because she didn't know you."

Ray sniffled and asked: "What?"

"Did you ever wonder why none of the accidents were fatal? She wanted to kill us, but she didn't succeed. You prevented that."

"But it was my fault! I sabotaged everything."

"No, Ray, you didn't. Listen to me, kid. You were used, but you fought back. She never controlled you enough to make you do the things she really wanted you to do."

"I felt so helpless," Ray whispered.

Peter tightened his hold on Ray. "It's over. Iviannjay is gone and she can't hurt you anymore."

The occultist nodded, leaning on to Peter. He was still trembling badly. The older man tousled his hair. "You go back to sleep, kid, okay. You really need it."

"Will you stay?" Ray asked with a child-like tone in his voice. Peter could hear how frightened he was to go back to sleep.

"I'll be right here," he promised and pulled the blanket over Ray's body. "You just sleep."

Ray nodded and smiled thankfully, sliding back down into the covers of his bed. Peter listened to the other man's breathing and soon heard that he was asleep.

"How is he?" a soft voice asked and Peter made out Winston, sitting up in his bed.

He sighed. "He needs some time," he answered truthfully. "There will be more nightmares and there's still Egon."

Winston nodded, understanding what Peter meant. The sight of Egon would refreshen the guilty feelings in Ray, though he couldn't have done anything to prevent it. He had been under control of a being far more powerful than him.

"You want me to sit with him?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "I made a promise."

"I understand."

 

*

 

The next morning began slowly. Peter dragged himself out of the chair he had carried over to Ray's bedside and went for a shower. He didn't even bother looking into the mirror. He felt terrible, that was enough for him. There were moments he was sharply and very clearly aware of his surroundings, then everything blurred into one hazy mist. His body ached everywhere, there were bruised parts all over his back were he had hit the wall when the power from the demon had been channelled through him, and his hand seemed to be on fire every time he used it. He took some of the painkillers, though he hated pills, but right now it was the best thing he could think off - except for a steaming, hot cup of wonderful coffee. Winston's frown told him that he looked even worse than he felt when he came back into the bedroom.

"You awake all night, m'man?"

Peter sighed. "If you don't count the dozing and drifting off, yes. I couldn't really sleep." He yawned and stretched, wincing when cramped muscles protested.

Winston's frown deepened. He had heard of symptoms like that in Nam. A friend of his had suffered from sleepless nights there, too. The daily attacks had given him something to keep going, taking only brief nap. When the Viet Cong had stopped their attacks, his friend had no more reason to keep on running on adrenaline, but he still couldn't sleep. He was hyperactive and sleep eluded him.

Now, the same thing had happened to Peter. He had been through the last three days with an absolute minimum of sleep and now his body didn't know what sleep was any longer. But it needed it - badly. But the psychologist was stubborn. He believed he had to be there for them all the time, night or day. Maybe he was blaming himself for everything, maybe not. He might just be worried, and Winston knew that when Peter was worried and concerned, he'd go ways to help the ones he was worried about, not giving in to his own needs. And the primary need he had was rest.

Ray yawned and sat up in his bed.

"Mornin', Ray," Winston greeted the other man. "If you get going in the next five seconds I'll let you take a shower first."

Ray grinned half-heartedly. "You go, Winston. I need some more time to wake up."

Winston returned the grin and disappeared. Ray turned to Peter who was already dressing. He noticed the psychologist's tired look and the dark shadows under his eyes. Peter seemed thinner than usual, his face drawn tight, a mirror of his overall condition. That together with the bandaged hand let a feeling of immense guilt wash over him. Peter had been at his side when the nightmare had woken Ray. And he must have stayed there till morning, judging from the chair.

"Yo, Ray," Peter smiled at him, "mornin' to you. What do you think of a nice, big breakfast Venkman-style?"

Ray grimaced theatrically. "I don't want my stomach pumped."

"Oh, thanks for your trust in my cooking abilities, kid." Peter looked genuinely offended. "But that won't keep me from cooking anyway." He grinned and left the bedroom.

 

*

 

After breakfast Peter, Ray and Winston left for the hospital. Janine accompanied them, telling them that the answering machine would take care of the calls. Besides, they needed a car and Janine's VW was the only one available since Ecto-1 was still at the police park. The secretary insisted on driving, though. None of the three men were in a condition to go into a battle with the New York traffic at this time of day - or any time of any day.

Before they visited Egon, Peter talked to Dr. Hewlett and the ophtalmologist, and was told that they would take off the bandages tomorrow. Peter promised to be there with the others.

The visit went well, Egon was in good spirits, and they only left when the nurse threw them out. Egon held Winston back as they left.

"Winston, what's with Peter?" There was genuine worry in the blond man's voice.

"He's only tired. Hadn't a good night's sleep for the last three days, with Ray having those nightmares and ...."

"Me in hospital," Egon finished the sentence matter-of-factly.

"Yes."

"You have to get him to rest. He'll break down completely if not. The last three days have been very strenuous for him, and combined with the stress induced by the pain he had to endure it is more than likely that he'll snap soon."

"Don't you think we tried to get him to rest? He just can't stay still. I think we have to hit him over the head with a baseball bat or dope him if he doesn't collapse on his own."

It was meant to be a joke, but Egon's overall expression - what you could see of it because of the white bandage - was that of approval. "I think that's exactly what you have to do."

" _What_? Hit him over the head with a baseball bat? You can't be serious, m'man!"

"No. I meant that you have to dope him if necessary."

"You're kiddin'."

"No, I'm not. This can get very serious if he doesn't sleep soon."

"I know. But doping him sounds awfully sneaky, y'know."

"It's the only way," Egon said softly.

Winston gave in. "Okay. I'll try the direct approach first. Maybe he takes those sleeping pills voluntarily." But Winston doubted that Peter would take the pills voluntarily. Sighing, he said good-bye and met with the others in the corridor.

"Secret, wise words from our genius?" Peter asked.

"Something like it." He eyed Peter with a disapproving frown. "Now let's go and get you to bed before you collapse right in here."

Peter didn't object, though he doubted he would be able to catch some real sleep.

 

*

 

When they arrived home Janine got to work on the calls they had had while at the hospital, and the others went upstairs.

"You know, with all those upcoming busts, you should get some rest," Ray said. "We have to go out soon or else our finances go down the drain."

"You're telling me," Peter muttered, knuckling his itchy eyes. Then with a smile, "Why don't we get busting right away? I mean, I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Winston objected. "You're powered out, Pete. You need to sleep. You've been going on adrenaline for the last two days non-stop."

"I'm okay, guys, really. Besides, I can't sleep."

"Then take some sleeping pills."

"Sleeping pills? Don't come me with sleeping pills. I don't need that stuff. Maybe a bust tires me enough to close my eyes." The answer was slightly aggressive.

"No busts," the black Ghostbuster said sternly.

"I'm perfectly okay!"

"You're not okay!" Winston countered, his voice louder than he wanted it to. "You're tired and exhausted."

"Says who? I think I'm a better judge of my condition than you lot!" Peter's voice had risen in tone, his eyes flashing in anger.

"Yes, says we. You'll collapse if you don't get to rest."

"What are you? My nurse-maid or Mom? Forget it, Zeddemore." Now the aggression rose to a visible level as Peter clenched his fists and jutted his chin.

"No, I won't forget it. And I might not be your Mom, but you sure need a nurse-maid the way you're treating yourself."

Peter stared at him, his body tense, his green eyes those of a cornered animal. "I can take care of myself, Zeddemore," he hissed. "Thanks. I'm a grown-up."

"Then start behaving like one."

That was the wrong thing to say. Peter stared at the other two men in silence, then he turned, leaving.

"Peter, wait!" Ray tried to hold him back. "It's only for your best. You're of no use if you collapse on a bust or get hurt because you're tired and inattentive."

"So I'm of no use to you! Fine with me!" He stormed out.

When he had disappeared downstairs, Winston sighed. "He's breaking down. I don't like to do this, but I think we have to."

"Have to do what?" Ray wanted to know.

"Make him sleep, if he wants or not." Walking upstairs, he got the sleeping pills out of a cabinet in the bathroom. He went over to the kitchen and poured some orange juice in a glass.

"You don't want to dope him with that, do you?," Ray asked in horror as he watched Winston put two pills in the juice.

"He has to rest or he will fall apart, Ray. I talked to Egon about it and he told me to get him to sleep, no matter how. His body doesn't know what sleep is any longer because, even though the reason to produce adrenaline on such a high level is long gone, his body keeps the adrenaline level up. This is what makes Pete run around like he has all the strength of the world and, at the same time, looking like long time dead.

Ray sighed. "I don't like this. It's .... it's mean. It's like betraying his trust in us."

Winston nodded, feeling uneasy about it, too. It was betraying Peter's trust. "But we have to do it." With that he headed down the stairs, the glass in one hand.

He found Peter in his office where he was staring at the wall. Silent anger burned in his eyes and Winston knew that Peter was close to the point of smashing his office. He had done so once or twice in the time Winston knew him. It had happened on those occasion when Peter felt helpless or threatened and couldn't blow off steam otherwise. Egon was Peter's prime target when it came to blowing off steam. Both men would throw words at one another and it mostly ended with Peter storming out and coming back later to apologize. Now, Egon wasn't here. And Winston had a good guess that Egon would have handled the situation differently. He would have gotten Peter to listen and see reason.

"Peter?"

Peter's head jerked up and the anger faded a bit as he saw Winston standing outside the office, the glass in his hand. "Whaddaya want?," he snarled nonetheless.

"I want to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He held out the glass. "Thought you might want something to drink."

Peter took the peace offering and sighed. "Thanks. And **I** 'm sorry for snapping like that." He took a sip of the orange juice and grimaced. "Tastes strange. Bought another brand?" He took another sip and then drained the whole glass.

"Something like it," Winston evaded a direct answer. "Come on, Pete. Let's go upstairs. Ray said something about a new movie and he asked for some popcorn and company."

Peter smiled and got up, swaying a bit, but masking it. Winston acted like he hadn't seen it.

 

The movie wasn't exactly new and it wasn't a big hit either, but it was Ray's kind of thing. Peter sat on the couch with the others and watched the opening scene. Winston kept an eye on him in case the sleeping pills would kick in. He noticed the first change in Peter's overall behavior after about an hour. His eyes were drooping and he was sagging a bit. Blinking furiously, he tried to concentrate on the movie.

Ray shot Winston a glance. Peter seemed to have noticed it because he suddenly looked at the black man.

"What's happening?" he mumbled, trying to get up.

He managed a more or less swaying stand and stared at Winston, blinking. His suddenly slow and clouded mind told him it wasn't exhaustion and fatigue that hit him. It was something else.

"You ... the orange juice...." Anger burned up again. "You drugged me!" Peter remembered the offer with the sleeping pills and his mind jumped to conclusions. The right conclusions.

Winston got up, too, trying to steady the other man, but Peter batted at the helping hand. The movement was too much and he fell forward, losing his balance. Winston caught the collapsing man and lowered him down to the floor, sinking down beside him. Peter's eyes were closed. Winston rested a hand on Peter's chest and felt the regular breathing. The pills had kicked in - full force.

"Let's get him upstairs into his bed," he said softly and Ray nodded, getting up.

Together they got him to the third floor, undressed him and put him to bed.

"We'll better be not around when he wakes up and remembers what we did," Ray muttered uneasily.

Winston sighed. "Yeah. Let's go back downstairs. I wanna know if Nancy gets rescued from that nasty whatever-it-is."

Ray grinned and, after looking at Peter's sleeping form again, left the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

When Peter woke up he felt tired and sleepy, but also more rested than for the last few days. He rolled around, blinking sleepily at the clock on his night stand. It was way past noon! Sitting up, he tried to collect his thoughts. What had happened? He remembered having a quarrel with Winston and he remembered the movie. The movie. It had been some kind of weird sci-fi, a B-movie. Ray had said something about it being great and exciting, but Peter hadn't been of the same opinion. He had fallen asleep while watching, hadn't he? But that would mean he had slept through most of yesterday.

Getting up, he went for a shower and then dressed. He really felt better now, though he still looked like something the cat had dragged in. Then he remembered that today was the day Egon's bandages were supposed to be taken off and that they had promised to come over to the hospital. He went downstairs and searched for Winston and Ray.

Ray was on the couch, sorting through various magazines, while Winston was in the kitchen. When Peter came over, Ray looked up and smiled. But there was a wariness in his eyes that made Peter frown a bit.

"Hello, Peter. Up already?"

"Already? Kid, it's past noon. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because we know what to expect if we wake you before noon, m'man." Winston grinned, though he, too, looked a bit wary. It was like he was expecting something to happen. Peter dug into his cloudy memory of yesterday.

Winston dried his hand's on a dish towel. "Hungry?"

"Ravenous. What's for lunch?"

"Nothing much. Come on, let's get a sandwich inside of you before you keel over in hunger."

Peter followed him to the kitchen and leaned against the cupboard. His mind was supplying him with pictures now and most of them were of a kind he didn't like. He frowned at Winston's back as the black man made him a sandwich with everything.

"Here you go, Pete." He gave him the sandwich, which Peter eyed suspiciously. "What's wrong?" Winston wanted to know.

"Any drugs in there?" he asked with a very - too - calm voice.

Winston stiffened a bit. "No," he then said as calmly as Peter. "Just the usual, unhealthy stuff you like so much."

Peter took a bite, never letting Winston out of his eyes. "Why?" he simply asked when he had swallowed.

"Because."

"Because what?" The dark-haired man lowered the sandwich back on the plate.

"Peter, you were burned out, running on adrenaline, and closer to a collapse than you wanted to know. You had no sleep, were under constant stress through Egon's and my accident, Ray had nightmares and then you were hurt. Your body couldn't take it any more. I talked to Egon and ..."

"Egon's in on this, too?" Peter was still calm, but there was silent anger burning in the emerald eyes. His hands curled into fists and, as if he had noticed the aggressive gesture, tried to relax again.

Winston evaded the glare in the psychologist's eyes and simply nodded. "I tried talking to you first, you know. But ..."

"I didn't listen."

"Right. And if we really have to go out on busts, we need you in top form, not half fainted because of exhaustion."

Peter stared at Winston for a long time. He felt betrayed. He felt like he had trusted them and they had sold him. But a part of his mind told him that they cared too much for him to really betray him. They had done it because of their worry and their friendship. It meant a lot to him and made him feel warm inside that someone cared so much to try radical methods when reason no longer worked -- even if doing what he had done, Winston had risked that friendship.

Winston didn't evade the stare, simply looked at Peter with frank openess. The angry glare faded a bit and Peter sighed softly.

"I should be angry, you know," he finally said in a conversational tone. "I should be furious because of what you did to me, but .... ," he shrugged, "I'm not. Well, not completely. I have to confess I feel much better than yesterday." He smiled a bit. "Though I can't say I'm overly thrilled by the fact that you did it like that."

Winston returned the faint grin. "It was our only chance to get you upstairs into bed without clubbing you."

"Never thought of hiring a beautiful woman to lure me upstairs, did you?"

Winston chuckled. "Well, we did. But Janine couldn't be convinced to play the part."

Peter grimaced and took another bite of the sandwich. Then he looked at his watch. "Shouldn't we be going?"

"Eat up, then we go."

Peter stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and smiled. "Ready," he mumbled, already on his way out.

 

* * *

 

"Dr. Spengler's eyes are healing perfectly. The skin is still reddened and tender, but there's nothing indicating permanent damage."

Dr. Nathan Paul, the ophtalmologist, looked at the three men and the woman. They seemed to listen to every single word with growing hope and he could understand them very well. Dr. Egon Spengler could have been hurt worse. The explosion had blinded him, but it would pass.

"We've already taken off the bandages," Dr. Paul continued, "and his eyes are reacting fine. Better than expected. There won't be any scars left from the burns."

"Can we see him now?" Ray wanted to know.

"Yes, of course. But don't expect too much. He can distinguish light from shadow and he can see large objects moving when they're close enough, but neither color nor shape."

All four nodded. Peter didn't care right now if Egon confused him with a cupboard as long as he could see him. They went to Egon's room and entered one after another. Janine went straight to the bed where the blond man lay, grabbing his hand. Egon's eyes opened. The pupils were wide and unfocused, the blue iris nearly too thin to distinguish the eye color.

"Hello, Egon," she greeted him and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Hello, Janine."

"The others are here, too."

Egon blinked and looked around, though Peter was pretty sure he didn't see anything. Ray went over and grabbed Egon's other hand and squeezed it.

"Hello, Egon. How are you?" Ray tried not to look at the reddened and injured skin around the physicist's eyes, but it was hard to ignore it.

"Fine, Raymond. I feel fine. Did you talk to Dr. Paul?"

"Yes. He told us that you could see a bit."

"I can see light in the darkness."

"Which is great," Peter broke in with a smile.

"Hello, Peter." Egon turned his head in the direction he had heard Peter's voice coming from. "I hear you have slept a bit."

"Ears like a lynx. Yes, Winston and Ray .... convinced me." Peter looked at the two Ghostbusters and smiled, showing them he wasn't upset about it any longer.

Egon deciphered the greater meaning of 'convinced' by hearing alone.

"We also talked to Dr. Hewlett," Winston said. "He said you can go home in a few days."

Egon nodded. "Yes, he told me that, too. I have to confess, I'll be glad to be out of this hospital bed."

"Me, too," Peter mumbled. He didn't like hospitals. He didn't like to be a patient in a hospital and he surely didn't like Egon to be a patient here. "The moment Hewlett gives his okay, we'll get you home."

"Which will be in two or three days if everything goes fine." Unnoticed, Dr. Hewlett had entered. He smiled at the Ghostbusters and their secretary. "We have to do some more tests until we let him out of our claws and he needs to come back after that once every two days, but else he'll be in your care. But right now, I think you should let Dr. Spengler get some rest."

They nodded. Janine and Ray squeezed each a hand of Egon. Then they left.

 

* * *

 

The next three days were filled with busts and other work. They went out on all the busts they could manage with only three men - well, two-and- a-half, since Peter's use of the thrower was limited because of his hand. And Winston and Ray had an eye on him that he didn't overuse his right hand. Then Janine volunteered to help with the other ones and they took her along, though Peter objected at first. Who would take care of the calls when their secretary was with them on the busts? Janine only told them that this was the job of an answering machine.

After three days they had managed most of the jobs and though they felt exhausted, they were in better spirits than before. Peter managed to get a regular dosage of sleep -- without the help of sleeping pills. The shadows under his eyes started to vanish and he put on some weight he seemed to have lost in those disastrous three days.

The only problem remaining was Ray. He was afraid to go to sleep at night, afraid to fall under the control of another being again. When he finally fell asleep - the exhaustion from the busts made it easier to do so - he would have nightmares. Mostly, it was about Annie and how she transformed, taking over his mind and making him do things he didn't want to do. He would wake, screaming and drenched in sweat, finding Peter or Winston at his side to comfort him. Neither of them made a big deal out their nightly hours of keeping watch over Ray. They were simply there.

Egon was released from hospital after those three days and they drove him home. He was now able to distinguish shapes and some colors from the rest of the world of darkness and light. He still needed someone to guide him and Janine had immediately volunteered for this job. Now she guided him upstairs to the living room, followed by the others.

Peter watched Egon with a happy light in his eyes, but also with worry. He knew that Egon was still chewing on the nearly permanent blindness that had threatened him. And there was Ray, who was behaving a bit out of character lately. The psychologist made a mental note to talk to both some time. Right now, he wanted them to feel safe and okay. They were complete now, with all four of them home again.

 

* * *

 

"What's wrong with Ray?"

The question made Peter look up. Winston stood at his side, frowning a bit.

"What do you mean?" the psychologist asked, though he knew exactly what Winston was talking about.

"I mean Ray's behaving strange. Remember your date last week?" Peter nodded. "Well, did you see how he eyed her? Like she was the enemy. There was nothing of the usually cheerful Ray I know in the way he greeted her."

Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I noticed. I think he needs time to get over Annie."

"It's been two weeks since that, Pete. I know it hurt him, but he's also someone who bounces back from things like that."

"This time, he needs a bit longer. Annie got real close to him. They were on the same wavelength."

"It was very hard on him," Winston sighed.

"Yeah." Peter sighed, then stood. "I think I'll have a talk with him. Where's Egon?"

"Out with Janine. She thinks she has to show him the neighborhood now he can see everything again."

It was true that Egon saw a lot of things again. With his glasses on he had about the eye-sight he had had before with no glasses on. He was getting better every day, no longer bumping into everything when he tried to walk around without a guide. He had some nice bruises on his shins from the experience.

Peter went for the lab where he knew Ray was working on something the other man had no idea what it was for or how to spell it. Something complicated, so much was for sure. Egon and Ray had been talking about it, and Peter had listened in without showing too much attention. If he did, he'd have to lend a hand -- or worse.

Walking up the stairs he entered the lab without knocking. Ray sat hunched over something with a lot of wires, a lot of knobs and some things Peter couldn't really identify.

"Yo, Ray," he greeted the occultist and Ray looked up.

"Oh, hi, Peter."

Peter eyed the device Ray was working on. "What's that, kid? A transdimensional microwave oven?"

"Oh, just something Egon and I have been theorizing about," Ray said without his usual enthusiasm when new devices were concerned.

"I see," Peter said slowly. Sitting down beside Ray and watching him attach something shaped like a tiny lightbulb to whatever it was that presented the largest part of the device, he tried to think of an opening to talk to Ray. Finally he decided that the direct approach would be best.

"Ray, what's wrong with you?"

Ray stopped and turned to Peter, a surprised look on his face. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong with me, Peter. What should be?"

"I just thought about Natasha and how you treated her like she was an invading army. She asked me later if she had done anything to offend you, you know. "

"Uh, sorry. Won't happen again. I must have been somewhere else with my thoughts when I saw her." Ray turned back to his work.

"That's something I expect of Egon, but he's still much more welcoming when he's absent-mindedly brushing past one of my dates than you were that day. What's bugging you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." The younger man tried to sound dismissive, but didn't quite manage.

"Don't give me the 'I'm fine'-routine, Ray. I know how that works 'cause I use it often enough."

Ray placed the part of the machine he had been holding on the table and sighed. "I ... I think I'm getting a bit paranoid, Peter." His voice was a mere whisper.

"In what way do you think that?" the psychologist asked softly.

"When I saw Natasha she looked exactly like .... Annie and," he bit his lower lip, "I .... I remembered what had happened and that's why I treated her like that."

Understanding dawned in Peter. "You're afraid she'd turn out as another Annie."

Ray nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. "I'm sorry if I have offended her so much, but right at that moment I couldn't help it. I'll apologize to Natasha when she comes here the next time."

Peter placed a hand on Ray's arm and smiled a bit. "No need to, kid. I think she understood when I told her that this one wasn't personal. Ray, it's okay to be wary for some time, but just remember that there are others who can be trusted. Believe me, I know. I learned it the hard way." Peter was completely serious.

The occultist returned the smile. This time, he understood.

"Just take it easy," Peter continued. "Annie is gone and there a lot of normal, trustworthy females out there who just wait for the famous Ray Stantz to pop up in their midst. I bet on that. By the way, what about the Chicago convention you so badly wanted to go? Got yourself booked in?"

Ray shook his head, blushing slightly. "I really don't think I should go there, Peter."

"Why? And don't tell me because of Annie. You can't hide behind the fact that this friendship wasn't what you expected it to be. You go to that con, find a nice girl, and invite us to the wedding."

"Peter!"

The psychologist grinned. "Okay, I see I'll better leave you to your whatever-it-is." Peter gestured towards the gizmo. With that he left Ray alone, knowing it would take some more time for the younger man to get over Annie, but knowing Ray it would happen soon. He had a knack of bouncing back from experiences like that.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later Egon Spengler came up the stairs and looked around the living room. Ray was at the Chicago convention and Winston was on a week-end trip to his family. Peter had stayed home, curiously enough not having a single date. Egon, whose eyes were nearly back to their own sight now, had decided it was time to get back to those experiments he had left abandoned when all of this trouble had begun. He was on his way to the lab after he had given Janine some reports to type and passed Peter, who sat on the couch, reading.

The psychologist's right hand was without any bandages now, but the burns were still brightly visible, troubling Peter now and then because the skin was very tight and dry.

Egon was already up the first steps of the spiral stairs when he stopped and went back down again. Peter was still sitting on the couch, his nose buried in a psychology magazine he had received today. The physicist smiled. Peter seldomly read when the others where present and used every minute of absence of Ray, Winston or himself as a chance to catch up on the 'dry' stuff like reading.

"Peter?"

Peter's head snapped up and his eyes widened as it dawned on him that he had been surprised. "Uhm, yes, Egon?" he asked innocently.

Egon eyed him and cocked his head, saying nothing. Peter returned the stare, not willing to give in. Finally, the physicist gave up.

"Since when?" he simply asked. "And why didn't you tell us?"

"Since when what, Egon?" The innocent look was still there.

Egon looked sternly at him. "Peter, since when do you wear glasses when you read something?"

Peter took off the wire-rimmed glasses and looked at them as if he saw them for the first time. "Oh, them. I don't really need them you know, it's just to impress Tasha. She likes educated looking men, especially when they wear glasses."

Egon frowned. "Peter."

This one word was enough to stop Peter's made-up story about Tasha. He bit his lip, lowering his eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered. Then he inhaled deeply, playing with the glasses. "I went to see Dr. Cavanaugh. Just for a check, really," he added quickly. Dr. Nicholas Cavanaugh was their physician and they went to him for regular check-ups. "He told me to see an eye-doctor. I didn't have any big problems, you see. Just, well, the smaller print under pictures and so on. The longer I read such small prints, the less I could decipher." Peter sighed. "I went to this doctor and he said it was nothing serious and that I needed glasses for the smaller stuff."

"And what is so terrible about needing glasses to read small print that you have to play hide and seek?" Egon inquired calmly, though he thought he understood Peter's reason.

The psychologist looked up and his green eyes held a shocked expression. "What's so terrible? Egon, I tell you what's so terrible: everybody will think I'm a short-sighted egg-head!"

The blond man smiled in amusement and Peter looked away again. "I understand," he then said slowly. "It's an image problem."

Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He stared at the glasses. "Something like it," he muttered and grinned wryly. "Sorry 'bout the egg-head, Spengs."

"I think we settled that a long time ago, Peter." Egon smiled, remembering college times. "Do the others know?"

The dark-haired man shook his head. "I think Ray suspects and Janine's on the right way to discover my terrible, little secret. Winston ... I'm not sure."

"You should tell them."

"Why? To get teased about it?"

"We won't tease you, Peter," Egon promised, but there was look in those blue eyes that told Peter what to expect. "Glasses are nothing to be ashamed of."

"Lemme think about it."

Egon smiled, knowing that Peter would make the right decision. Then he turned serious again. "By the way, I have this experiment running and because Ray is at the convention and I need some help I thought ..."

Peter shook his head, slipping his glasses on his nose and peering over the wire-frames. "Don't get any crazy ideas about me helping you, big guy. I got two left hands when it comes to technology and I don't understand a thing you're working on up there. I'd just blow up the lab and I think you don't need me to do that. You got that worked out by yourself."

The expression in Egon's eyes was one of amused fondness. "Then I must have had a hallucination when Ray told me you were doing thorough checks on our proton packs and volunteering to help with the containment unit, too."

Peter nodded in understanding. "I'm positive of that. You were still in shock and misinterpreted something our boy wonder said."

"Yes, it must have been something like this." Egon's voice was still scientifically neutral, but the blue eyes twinkled.

The psychologist grinned and got back to reading his magazines again. Egon continued his way upstairs, feeling that everything was once again okay.


End file.
